We Looked Like Giants
by ErisandDysnomia
Summary: "Directly, or indirectly, everyone in Death City was connected to the circuit. It was how someone supported their habit, how a single mother fed her kids, or how an over privileged college kid found her kicks." The circuits are the only way to stay afloat, and if that means selling their soul to the Demon in control, they'll do it. Crime Family AU. Soul/Maka. Rating inside.
1. Dried Blood on the Money

**Chapter One:**

**Blood On The Money**

* * *

Long fingers danced across the ivory keys, pounding away the fear, and the pain. Drops of red, increasing in number followed the fingers as they hit the pristine white below them, leaving a morbid guide to playing his song.

The last song.

The show was over.

All because he won.

The melody, which has started scared, and broken, was now drenched in insanity, a gleeful run towards the death ahead, everything that he didn't know, everything that waited for him. Whatever it may be.

_You know what waits for you._ The voice in his head whispered, the red man, the creature that hid in the dark corner of thoughts, memories. _The fire, the blood, the screams and the gnashing of teeth._

The idea made him sick, made his stomach roil against his skin, made the sweat break out and his heart beat faster, making the blood dripping from his wrist flow quicker. Fear would drive him there quicker, much quicker than he thought.

Still, being found dead by his own hand was preferable to being found by the Kishin's men.

The black and white keys blurred to grey in his unsteady eyes, and his hand twitched, wanting to stop moving, wanting to just relax. He wouldn't let it though, it was the last song, and he was going to finish it.

"Beautiful." A voice complimented, followed by clapping hands. He jumped, and turned to face the voice. It was a man, tall, with vibrant red hair, and a snarky smirk on his face. He had on a grey shirt, with a heavy black jacket over it. His skin tight jeans and boots were black as well, which had probably granted him shelter in the shadows while he'd been playing. The piano player clenched his fists, annoyed that he hadn't sensed the man come in.

And now it was over.

"Oh." The man stood on his tiptoes and looked at the red splattered over the keys. "You've made quite the mess there though. Did you think about the poor custodial staff that would undoubtedly find you? After all, a church is a pretty gruesome place for a suicide."

"Pretty gruesome place for a murder too." He answered the tall man, surprised by how his voice slurred as he answered. He was tired now, and cold, adrenaline no longer keeping him going.

"Yes, I suppose you have a point. Who's getting murdered though?" A red eyebrow quirked up at his question, and the man at the piano frowned.

"I don't much care for games, if you're here to kill me, hurry up and do it. Although, it's hardly a victory, I've done most the work for you."

"Oh, we've run into a misunderstanding somewhere. I'm not here to kill you."

"…What do you want then?"

"You're the fighter from tonight right? 'Eater'? That's your name isn't it." The man tilted his head. "Huh, you're younger than I thought you'd be. The mask really threw me off."

"Who wants to know?" The piano man slurred, and the red eyebrows furrowed.

"Say, why don't you let me add some pressure to that cut, get your standing back, and then we can talk."

"You give me a name, now. I told you, I don't like games."

"I'm the Reaper kid, you should show some respect." The red haired man gave a cocky grin, and the other scowled.

"You expect me to believe that?"

Reaper shrugged, and removed his jacket, leaving him in the short sleeved grey shirt, and he pushed the sleeve up slightly. Tattooed on his fair skin was the distorted image of a skull, warped to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. Underneath the skull, was the word 'reaper', with a line drawn through it. The man at the piano froze, mouth agape as he realized the man in front of him was actually the famed Reaper.

"Fuck." He whispered as Reaper returned his jacket to where it belonged. "Why are you here? I didn't do anything to Death's men."

"I know. I watched that last fight, now, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk. Could you be bothered to put off your suicide a little longer?"

Sharp teeth dug into his bottom lip as the musician considered his options. This was the highest ranking member of the two syndicates that inhabited the small Nevada city, nicknamed Death City for the amount of pure violence the two crime families managed to produce between the two. Shibusen, run by a man only known as 'Lord Death', wasn't something to mess with, on death's door or not. Slowly, the man offered his bleeding arm out and shrugged. "Didn't exactly bring anything to stop the bleeding. Didn't expect to need it."

The Reaper approached him slowly, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket. He knelt down in front of the bleeding man and wrapped the fabric around the cut, and applied pressure. The man at the piano was surprised by how gentle the Reaper, the most feared fighter to have ever graced the circuit, was being. "How did you find me here?"

"I followed you from the fight. I figured from the response that happened after you threw that last punch…you weren't supposed to win that, were you."

"The Kishin's men highly suggested I throw the fight."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I need the money…didn't think I was going to pay for my win with my death."

"So you decided to take your own life?"

"Better than dying another thug in some alley somewhere."

"Well, I'm glad I caught you. You're good, better than I was at your age. It would've been a waste…but…this is as high in the fights as you can go, isn't it? You don't have a Meister."

"I'm no one's weapon." The musician snarled, resting his elbows on the keys, the resounding smash of notes echoing through the small church.

"You can only fight at the bottom so long."

"If it's what I have to do." The sharp toothed man answered as his head regained a little bit of clarity and the Reaper tightened his grip on the wound again.

"Why?"

"Why does anyone get into the fights? The cash."

"Make good money?"

"Make enough to get by."

"Seems like a waste, someone with your talents, and your skill level, you could be something much more."

"Yeah, well I'm not."

"Would you like to be?" Reaper asked, with a knowing grin on his face. The man flexed the hand that's wrist was sliced, and was shocked by how well it moved.

"What are you offering?"

"I'm not as tough as I used to be," Reaper started out, and the piano man scoffed. He highly doubted that. The Reaper couldn't be any older than his early thirties, he was still plenty tough, enough so to be used as a threat on the streets, the threat that the Shibusen turned to in times of desperation. "And I can't be everywhere at once. Not efficiently."

"What is it you want exactly?"

"This is hardly common knowledge, but I have a daughter. She means the world to me, she's smart, strong brilliant, and pretty much perfect. But, she's getting older too, and she doesn't exactly enjoy having her father hovering over her shoulder for every little thing. But…this city…I can't leave her to fend for herself, now can I?"

"So…you're looking for a babysitter?"

"No, absolutely not. I'm looking for a bona fide guardian here. This is my only child, my pride and joy, and I _refuse_ to lose her to this city." The cordial tone his voice had held previously and adopted a type of malice the musician had only herd in the final whispers of men who died at his fists. Such an intense desperation and screaming from the soul.

It sent shivers down his spine.

"And…you think I want this job?"

"The money you make on this job will be more than enough for you to retire from the fights, completely, and then some. Not to mention and upgrade in housing, food, and…" Reaper glanced down at his blood soaked handkerchief. "Healthcare."

"That much for one girl? How often is she targeted exactly?"

"Enough for this to become a necessity. This is an evil city kid, and there are plenty of ways to get to the top. The easiest would be to go for the children, don't you agree?"

"I guess…why would you trust your kid to some low circuit fighter then? What makes you think I wouldn't turn on you, and use your kid against you?"

"You wouldn't be that stupid. I've seen you face. That's as good as knowing your name for me." The Reaper absentmindedly scratched his face with his free hand. "Speaking of, what is your name?"

"You threaten my life, then ask my name?"

"Welcome to Death City, kid." Carefully, he pulled the fabric from the musicians wrist, which was stained in red, but was no longer leaking the sticky liquid. "And, not that I'm keeping track, but I just saved your life. Want me to stitch it up too?"

The kid on the piano bench only shrugged, and Reaper pulled out a needle and some thread that he'd snagged from his daughter before he'd gone off to the fights, in case any of their fighters needed patched up. He pulled out his lighter, and lit the tip of the needle, making sure it was as sterilized as he could get it in this situation.

"So, what's your name?"

"Eater."

"Ah, ah, ah. That's your fight name. I want the name on your birth certificate."

"Why?"

"To run a background check. This is my daughter."

"I never agreed to this job."

"You never disagreed either. I mean, you're still listening, and you could've walked away whenever."

"…She's a daughter of Shibusen?"

"Yes."

"Which means…"

"You'd become one of us kid, and we look out for our own."

"My insult to the Kishin…"

"You'd be one of us. The Kishin and his men would be stupid to try and go for you." Reaper removed his hands from the pianist's wrist and looked down at his work. "Little crooked, and it'll scar…but you should be alright." He watched as the kid looked down at his wrist, still covered in dried blood and clenched his fist.

"Just the one girl?"

"Just her. And she's a good kid, won't cause you any trouble at all. Bit uptight, like her mother, but she's a good kid. It'll be an easy gig."

"And I'll have Shibusen backing me?"

"One hundred percent."

A shark-like grin stretched across the younger man's face, and he met the Reaper's eyes with his own vibrant red ones. "Sounds cool."

Reaper smiled at him, and leaned back on his heels. "So, name?"

"Yours first, I want security, if this ends up being a trap."

"Smart kid." Reaper chuckled. "Spirit. Spirit Albarn."

"…Like Police Commissioner Albarn?"

"Lord Death has eyes everywhere." Commissioner Albarn grinned. "And you? Aside from Eater?"

"Soul. Soul Evans."

"So, Soul. You in?"

"Yeah…I'm in."

* * *

The sweat of the crowds made the small abandoned home humid, a deep contrast to the chill in the Nevada air. Underneath the mask, beads of sweat gathered on the forehead of the girl underneath. Around her, masks depicting all different animals and emotions mingled, discussing the current fights, but each conversation seemed to dwell on one fight in perticualr.

Eater vs. Rasputin

She had heard the words trickling down from the surrounding bodies since she had walked in.

_All bets on Rasputin_

_He's a sure thing._

_Eater's strong, but he's still just a kid_

_I heard from a Kishin foot soldier that it's fixed._

But, she'd been watching the lower level fights for a long time now. They were the only ones she could sneak into without anyone really checking the fake ID she handed over to the bouncer, who only glanced down at it before blowing out smoke from his cigarette and continuing to stitch up his own skin.

Almost six months she'd been sneaking into these fights, and in each one she saw the fighter 'Eater' in, she saw desperation around him. This wasn't fun for him, it wasn't a game. No, the man in the demon mask took down each opponent with a kind of final determination that told her he needed to win, not for pride, just to survive. He only lived so long as he won.

That's why she bet on him.

That was also why she knew that there was no way Eater would throw a fight.

_Ever._

Especially not to a fat fuck like Rasputin. The gargantuan man had only survived this long because once he managed to get ahold of his opponent, he'd crush them with his body, suffocating them between the hard ground and his body fat.

The Kishin men wanted him to continue on, so he did. That was the only reason.

That week, just like every other week she bet what she had brought on Eater. And she knew, just like every other week, she'd walk away with more money than she had arrived with. She knew her Papa was suspicious about where she managed to get her money, but she brushed it off to working at a coffee shop for the last few months, but even her father, greatest idiot of them all, had to know that she was making way too much for a barista.

But it wasn't enough to deter her from coming, not even slightly. It wasn't just the money that her anonymous prize fighter had managed to bring in for her week after week, it was the thrill. Of course it was, there was a reason that it was impossible to stay out of the fights. Directly, or indirectly, everyone in Death City were connected to the circuit. It was how someone supported their habit, how a single mother fed her kids, or how an over privileged college kid found her kicks.

Once again, the weekly fight was over, with most the people slumping out of there losers, as their lovely little bets had fallen through. It didn't surprise her, Rasputin was expected to beat Eater at a 6 to 1 odd. Because though, she had bet on Eater, and she had bet 200, everything she had saved up from the last two weeks, she was walking out of there with a cool twelve hundred dollars in her pocket. Careful to keep her mask secure, she made her way up to the window, and the man working there smiled at her.

"I regret calling you a little idiot for betting on the Demon Kid."

"There's something to be said about creatures of habit." She smiled under her mask, but she was sure he could hear it in her voice. "I'm in the habit of betting on Eater, and he's in the habit of winning."

The man snorted as he pushed her winnings beneath the glass plate that separated them. "Wouldn't count on that next week."

"How do you figure?" She asked, counting the bills passed over to her.

"Eater won't be back to fight."

"Why?"

"Why? Maybe you are a little idiot. He went against a direct order from the Kishin. Men that do that? They don't live long enough to regret it. He'll be dead before sunrise."

"W-what?!" Her head shot up and the man behind the glass nodded.

"This is the lower circuit. You don't make your own rules here. It's the Demon Kid's own fault. If he had just swallowed that pride and gotten himself a Meister, he could've been out of this circuit and making some real money. His own stupid choice." He shook his head. "Now move along little idiot, I've got people waiting."

She moved out of the way, money clenched in her hand, but it wasn't a win for her anymore.

She knew this world was ugly, she knew it wasn't safe, and no one was guaranteed to make it out…but it still shocked her. Her first fight, it was one of Eater's, the first fight she'd bet on, one of Eater's and the first bet she'd won, it had been on Eater.

Life in Death City was different, the fights, the fights were the Super Bowl, World Series and everything else rolled up into one. You knew the fighters up in the big leagues, you knew how they operated, and you knew their Meister. Even down in the pits, it was like college teams, you knew who worked, and who you liked, and you stuck by them, wins or losses.

Refusing to believe she felt this much sorrow over a person she only knew by a painted mask and a white head of hair, she took off briskly, wanting to get out of this part of town before it got especially dangerous, before the losers of tonight took to drinking their anger away, and took it out on her. She kept her head down until she passed through the unfinished houses, to the bus stop, and she pulled off her mask.

The cool air kissed her skin as she reveled in the feeling of being freed from the confining plastic she molded over her face. It wasn't anything special. A stereotypical angel face, that stood out enough at the fights, but it kept her face covered, and that was all that mattered. Once she was sure the pink was no longer staining her cheeks, she released her hair from the loose pigtails she had them up in, and was slightly surprised when the hair that framed her face was black as night.

_Oh…right…that last fight with Papa._

She sighed at tugged at the new color. She shouldn't be acting like a child, openly rebelling at every chance she got, but there was something annoying about the way her father still insisted on trying to raise her, as if he'd been there, as if he'd done any raising at all in the last 19 years, as if he'd tried at all before her mother had left after she started college, leaving her with her father as her only support system in one of the most dangerous places in the United States.

If you asked her to be completely honest, Maka Albarn would admit to hating both of her parents, and she wouldn't sound the least bit guilty about that fact. But, she'd ask in return, could you blame her?

Waiting for the bus, she recounted her money, and tried to ignore the unjustifiable sadness that followed her.

_Is Eater actually dead?_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Rated for violence, language, and anything else that may pop up.**

**Well, here it is. It's a Soma, for sure, but to be honest, I'm not sure where this is going exactly...but I don't know if it will be a happy journey. Either way, I hope you enjoy!**

**Let me know what you think?**

**Thanks!**

**-Eris.**


	2. It's In The Job Description

**Chapter Two:**

**It's In The Job Description**

* * *

The alarm slammed against her conscious with the promise of a headache.

With her groan filling her empty room, she groped along the green sheets she made her bed, searching through the pillows and blankets she had nested herself in for the phone that kept blaring at her to join the world of the awoken, and greet the day. After the annoying tune had cycled through once, Maka gave up, and brought herself up to her knees to continue her search. Finally, after burrowing down to the bottom of her sheets, completely surrounded in green cotton, Maka had obtained her iPhone and shut the stupid alarm off.

Throwing her arms above her head she popped her shoulders, and stepped out of bed, into her room. The window allowed light to pour in through her dark green curtains, so she pulled those back and waited for her eyes to adjust before she made her way to the mirror. Like it had done last night, her black hair shocked her for a few seconds, having forgotten what she had done to herself in order to piss off her father.

"_Cut your hair? Why would you want to cut your hair?" Spirit has asked, barely looking over the paper at his daughter. _

"_Because I don't like it?"_

"_No…keep your hair the way it is. You look like your Mama."_

"_I'm not Mama, I'm me."_

"_Just leave it." Spirit ordered, and that was when the anger had ignited behind Maka's eyes. She wasn't her mother, and she wasn't a stand in for the relationship her father had destroyed. _

_She was going to make him see that. _

Looking back, she decided that she could've used a color that wasn't so…dark. It didn't look bad, but it was defiantly a change. A change that she was completely unsure of how her father would react to. But, she couldn't do much about that now. It was done, and she had to get ready for classes. Seeing as she was celebrating her newest rebellion, she decided against the constant pigtails, and flicked on her straightener, considering she might as well go one hundred percent on this. While that heated, she put a layer of foundation on, to even out her skin tone, and some light eyeliner, then she tossed the makeup aside. She ran the heated plates over her hair, compressing it into a sleek, black waterfall, and she plaited a small braid on the top layer of her hair on the left side.

Deciding she looked cute enough, she walked over to her dresser, where black tights, a black shirt, and a grey tank top with a silhouette of a tree made her outfit for the day. Once that was deemed passable, she put on her deodorant, body spray and brushed her teeth.

As an afterthought, she reached for the long chain on her desk, and doubled it, wearing it around her neck. The cold circle of her mother's wedding right pressed against her chest, and she gripped it in her hands.

There, she was ready to face her father.

On her walk through the house, down to the kitchen, her mind wandered back towards the idea that her fighter might actually be dead. For the last year, since she turned 18, she'd been scanning the fights at that level, and Eater had always been there. He was almost like…it was her fighter. The Bookies knew exactly who she was going to bet on before she even spoke. It was surreal to her, to think that someone who had made such a big impact on her life, who she only knew by mask, could be dead in an alley somewhere, not to be found for at least a few days.

She tried to banish the thoughts from her mind as she walked into the kitchen, and smelt her father's attempts at making breakfast. Bacon, of course, it was the only thing he could consistently cook without destroying every single skillet they owned in the process. Maka sighed, and pushed her way past him, towards the coffee pot. "Morning Papa."

"Morning my sweet-WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?!" Spirit's face had gone white, and his eyes were wide, in complete shock. Maka only reached over him and grabbed a strip of bacon, and bit down on it, while her father stared at her, almost burning his chin on the hot skillet he was holding up.

"Dyed it."

"Why?!"

"I figured I could use a change."

"But…you…YOUR BEAUTIFUL HAIR!" Her father was close to tears as Maka rolled her eyes and brought her coffee down to the table. Next to her, was a setting for her father, his signature 'World's Best Dad' coffee cup at the setting. But, to her other side, there was another setting, and Maka lifted her eyebrow.

"We having company?"

"You were so blonde! Just like your mother! That will take years to grow back out!"

"Papa. Company?"

"SO BLONDE."

"Papa!" Maka growled, and her father put down the skillet dejectedly and lifted his watery eyes at his daughter.

"Oh, right. An officer I work with, his nephew is here. He's going to be going to school with you, and is staying here for a few days until he can get his own place."

"Which officer?"

"Corporal Evans. Remember him?"

Eyebrows met over green eyes. "The old guy?"

"He's got a really young little sister. It's her kid."

"Uh…huh…" Maka scowled, but let the subject drop as her father served her up some more bacon, and two eggs, that actually didn't look half bad.

She covered them in salt and pepper anyways. Just in case.

Behind her, she heard footsteps. They were too slow to be her father's so she tossed a look over her shoulder, and froze.

The boy she could only assume was the 'nephew' was walking into her kitchen. He was taller than her, by a little bit, and his skin was tan, but he wasn't Japanese, not like she was. He had a scowl on his face that looked so comfortable there, she'd bet money it was permanent. His shoulders were stooped, and he was slouching, looking like even walking uninterested him. His eyes met hers, and she was almost shocked by the red irises. They weren't exactly commonplace, but there they were, looking right at her.

His hair was white.

But no, no way. It couldn't be. Like the bookie said, Eater was dead by now, and seeing as one person in the world could have white hair, then there was a chance that another person could too. Albinism, it was a real thing. That's probably what this kid was.

_But…he's tan._

"Maka! Don't be rude!" Spirit ordered her from where he was still wielding a skillet. "Quit staring!"

"Oh, uh sorry!" She apologized to the boy, who only shrugged.

"It's cool."

"I'm Maka."

The boy gave a smirk, and a row of shark teeth glinted in the kitchen light, and Maka tried even harder not to stare. "Soul."

She gave him a smile back, trying to calm her racing mind. After all, when she held her friends at attention…with white strips, blue hair, and a pair of tits that couldn't be normal, she wasn't exactly one to judge on what genetics could and couldn't do.

"Alright, so go to school! Maka, you take your hair and get out of here. Off to classes with you. now!" Her father tried to order, tears running down his face. To the new kid's credit, he only gave Spirit a passing glance before grabbing a handful of bacon from the table, and following Maka towards the door, where she paused to pull on her black boots before grabbing her backpack, and pushing out of the screen door.

Soul fell into a comfortable pace next to the girl, who looked completely annoyed. "God he's a fucking idiot."

"He always like that?" Soul asked her, mouth full of bacon. Maka looked over at the albino boy, and snorted.

"With me he is."

"It's kinda weird…I would've thought-" The boy stopped himself, obviously worried that he'd mentioned something that had managed to be kept from the Reaper's daughter for the last nineteen years. Maka, for her part, only huffed out a laughed.

"Would've thought the famed Reaper would be a bit more…awesome?" She finished for him. "Yeah, no way that could be kept a secret." She looked back at her house, and Soul looked up with her, eyes zeroing in on the same distorted skull that had been warped on Spirit's skin, hung up in the front window of the house. "The other people in Shibusen…they're smarter than to display their membership so obviously, but I mean, Papa is the Commissioner, so who's going to call him out on it right?"

"So…you're aware of the crime family you're a part of then?" The boy questioned, shoving more food in his mouth.

"You're either a Shibusen, or with the Kishin. So why not be proud of who you align with?" Maka asked, and pulled up her shirt a little, reveling her belly ring, which was the same distorted skull. "Besides, it keeps you safe in some parts of town."

"And in the others?"

"It's a death sentence." Maka looked up at him with a little grin. "So, where you from?"

"Around." Soul shrugged. "Nowhere interesting."

"So, why did you decide to come to school here then?"

"Uncle said it might be a good idea for me. Said they have a good teachers and stuff."

"Uh huh…I'm not buying it." Maka stated. Quite offhandedly too, seeing as she just kept her gaze ahead, face completely relaxed.

"What?"

"You're just going to transfer in, in the middle of a semester, and you still expect to pass any of these classes? Yeah right. You have a different reason for being here." She looked at him from under her black fringe and smiled. "So, what's the real reason?"

"You're a clever one, ain'cha?" Soul grumbled, looking down at her. "That's the whole story."

"Can't be. To have the kind of pull to just slip you seamlessly into classes like this, why, I'd even have to venture that you'd need Lord Death himself to pull this off."

"Oh yeah?"

"This would be a lot easier if you would just tell me."

"Nothing to tell." Soul shrugged, and Maka frowned, her thought process from earlier resurfacing.

"Do you know anyone by the name of Eater?" She asked softly, staring at Soul's face, looking for the slightest sign of change, or distress, but his features remained impassive.

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Don't you follow the fights?" She accused, and the white head of hair bounced his 'yes'. "Eater, you know?"

"Never heard of him." Soul sighed, sticking his finger in his ear. "Who's his Meister?"

"He doesn't have one. He's in the Pits."

"Oh. I don't care about the Pits. Those fights don't go anywhere." He turned his crimson eyes on the Reaper's daughter. "How do you follow the Pit fights? You couldn't pass for twenty one if you tried."

"Why do you say that?" Maka frowned and Soul smirked.

"You ain't got no tits. The fight whores, they got a chest on them." Soul smirked. Next thing he knew, he was swallowing cement, and a searing pain spread across the top of his head. He pulled himself up, rubbing his jaw, and trying to fix his headband, which was now covering one of his eyes. "What the hell was that!?"

Maka, looking much too pleased with herself, was slipping a textbook back into her bag. "Black*Star calls it the 'Maka Chop'. I don't have any qualms with the name. It's pretty accurate."

"You're fucking evil." Soul moaned as he got back to his feet, and Maka only smiled at him.

He was blatantly lying to her, but it didn't bother her that much. After all, it had been a while since she'd had a good mystery to solve, this one being much less likely to break her family apart after she'd gotten more than enough evidence that her father had cheated on her mother. Several times.

No, it was alright, this Soul kid, he would end up spilling whatever secret he had, she was sure of it. Until then, surprising herself, she figured she would enjoy hanging out with him.

Maka Chopping Black*Star had lost some its appeal lately. A new noggin was just what the doctor ordered.

* * *

The campus was packed to the brim with people, and it made the musician a little more than nervous.

He had never been on to work with crowds, and too many people in one place gave him a feeling of being watched that never seemed to end well. In the Pits, the fighters were kept separated from the crowd, to avoid any _tampering_ of other competitors. Crowds and Soul just didn't exactly get along.

Speaking of the fights, how in the holy fuck did Maka Albarn, the Commissioner's Kid, know about his fights? There was no way she had been able to sneak in, was there? Of course, everyone in the Pits wore masks, so there was no way of confirming she had honestly been to one of his fights. Maybe, she just knew about him because, for a bottom dweller, he was doing pretty well for himself, and if Maka preferred the Pits to the Arena fights, then there was a chance she could've just heard of him. Either way, he wasn't going to push the idea, the less attention he brought to the Pits the easier he could keep his name away from Eater's.

"MAAAAAKAAAAAAAAAA!" A high pitched voice screamed, and Soul looked up, only to see some kid with blue hair take a fucking leap out of a window, and fall into the tree, where he caught himself before dropping to the ground. "Maka!" The kid repeated, throwing his arms around her and squeezing. Maka gasped for air, and Soul heard her back pop under the pressure the kid was embracing her in.

_Is this something I'm supposed to save her from?_ Soul thought idly as Maka pushed the kid off of her.

"Hey Black*Star." Maka smiled back, arm cradling her ribs. The intolerable ball of energy paused just long enough to really look at Maka.

"What the fuck happened to your hair? You look emo as all hell."

Soul saw the book a millisecond before it was brought down upon Black*Star's blue hair. He cried out and cradled his head while Maka only clenched the book tighter. "I felt like a change. That okay with you?"

"Yes Miss Maka." Black*Star sobbed, hands over his head. Behind Black*Star, a tall girl with long black hair came to join them. She wore a tank top, and the very definition of 'short shorts'. With an exasperated look, she glanced down at Black*Star.

"That was quick."

"Tsubaki, I can't handle this little shit." Maka smiled through clenched teeth, and even Soul found the sight a little terrifying. Maka went to put her book back for the second time that morning, when she glanced up at Soul. "God, I am just being so rude to you today. I'm sorry! Soul, this is Black*Star," Maka gestured down to the blue haired kid. He was dressed in a white shirt that had 'HERO' printed in block letters over his heart, and tight black jeans. His shoes were the same color as his hair, and he looked up at Soul with a grin. Just barely underneath his sleeve, Soul could see lines inked into his skin, and there was another tattoo on his neck, and when the kid moved slightly, Soul saw his third Shibusen skull of the day.

He supposed it didn't surprise him. The kids of the crime family had to stick together, and a father as overprotective as Spirit wouldn't be sending his daughter somewhere she wouldn't be welcome. If anything, Soul wouldn't have been surprised to realize that this school was owned by Lord Death. It would explain how Spirit had managed to enroll him without even an ID.

"Hey." Soul nodded down to the Blue Blur who hopped back up to his face, and locked hands with him.

"Hi. Where'd you come from?"

"He's one of Papa's officer's nephew." Maka explained, although her tone of voice made it incredibly apparent that she didn't believe a word of that. "And this," She gestured towards the tall girl with the big blue eyes. "Is Tsubaki. Black*Star's babysitter."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that!" Tsubaki tried to laugh it off, but Black*Star went off on Maka.

"BABYSITTER?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I DON'T NEED A BABYSITTER! I'M BASICALLY A GOD IN MY OWN RIGHT! HOW DARE YOU!"

"Some God! A book can take you down every time!"

Soul looked at the group in front of him argue, and he gave a small smile himself. "I'm Soul." He told Tsubaki, who smiled at him, and they stood next to each other while Maka and Black*Star went at each other. "So, what were you hired to be?" Tsubaki asked, and Soul lifted an eyebrow. "You're a new hire, so what did Reaper hire you for?"

"Watch out for Maka." Soul answered, still looking at the tall girl curiously. She nodded.

"Yes, I figured it was something like that."

"How'd you know?"

"Oh, that's why Black*Star was hired." Tsubaki explained. "See, I'm from the Nakatsukasa family. They sent me out here to go to school under Shibusen as a sign of brotherhood. So, they hired Black*Star to watch over me." She looked at Soul. "Does Maka know why you're here?"

"No, the Reaper told me not to let her know."

"Good. Keep that put off as long as you can. She has a habit of slipping her guards." Tsubaki laughed. "She's kind of hard to keep pinned down."

"I gathered." Soul smirked, and shook his head.

"Oh, another mindless battle of wit vs. stupidity again, I see?" A different boy asked, as he approached them. Soul had to give the freak a double take. His head was completely bald, except for two spikes that shot up from in front of his ears, like horns. Soul would be the first to admit his hair didn't really have a rhyme or reason, it just was. But this guy…Jesus.

Maka, however, blushed when she saw him. "Ox! Hey!" She threw her arms around him in a hug, and Soul couldn't help but gawk.

_No way. That's not her….no way._

"Oh! Soul!"Maka turned around. "This is Ox, my boyfriend. Ox, this is Soul, he's new, and I'm showing him around."

"Nice to meet you." Ox seemed polite enough, but he gave Soul a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Same." Soul mentioned, and jumped when he realized Black*Star's hand was down his pocket. "Hey! What the hell!"

"Oh calm down." The boy answered, lying on his back on the ground, using his foot to keep Soul away from him. "I'm just checking out your schedule." His blue eyes scanned the paper quickly, gathering all the information in front of him. "OH HEY WE HAVE MATH TOGETHER! YES! NO ONE ELSE IS IN THE EARLY CLASS WITH ME!" Black*Star raved, and jumped up, grabbing Soul by the collar, he took off towards the buildings. "Bye guys!"

"Hey wait! Knock it off you fucking idiot!" Soul cried as they got further away. Black*Star finally released him, and he knocked the younger boy's hand away from him.

"What's the big dead?"

"I'm not…supposed to leave her alone." Soul answered, looking over to where Maka was walking away, Ox's arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. This school is one of the safest places she could be. I'm Tsubaki's bodyguard, and aside from right next to be, this is the safest place she could be. You don't need to worry about Maka."

"How do you know this place is so safe?" Soul asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, regressing back to his slouch.

"Look." Black*Star pointed to the building they were slowly walking towards. Sitting at a table, a boy was intently pouring himself into his work. Next to him, two blonde girls sat were slumped in their chairs. They looked bored, but Soul saw them constantly scanning the surrounding area. "That dude. That's Kidd. Death, the Kidd."

Soul's eyes widened, and he looked over at Black*Star. "Lord Death's son?"

"The very same. This place, it's safe enough for Lord Death's own son, so I suppose, if I can't be by Tsubaki's side all the time, then this is a decent substitute."

"Is it weird?" Soul asked, and Black*Star laced his fingers behind his head.

"What?"

"Guarding someone? I mean, how long have you been watching Tsubaki?"

"Almost six months. I know, it does seem kinda weird, but trust me, the first time you see that girl hurt, there's gonna be nothing more in the world that you want but to make her happy again."

"I'm starting to think I'm Maka's guardian, and you're Tsubaki's _guardian_."

"S-shut up! You don't know anything! I AM A GOD COMPARED TO YOU!"

* * *

He didn't realize it, but Soul was about to get his first chance to fulfill duty as a guardian.

For the first half of his day, he was passed along between Maka, Tsubaki and Black*Star, until he found himself at a lunch break, observing as the fabled son of Lord Death cried over a slightly askew '7' in his math notebook. Between all the people he'd met today, and the way they all seemed to mesh together, he had actually been having a good time. Not to mention, he was actually enrolled in classes, something he hadn't really considered for himself.

It was still way too early in this trial period to decide for sure, but he could see this working, he was pretty happy here.

Until he heard Maka yell.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Maka screamed, and Soul threw his head over his shoulder and saw Maka ripping her arm away from Ox. Immediately, Soul and Black*Star were on their feet.

"Maka, please listen to me!" Ox pleaded, and she only scoffed out a laugh.

"I don't need to listen to you! I saw plenty!" She snarled, and started towards her table of friends. Soul met her on her way, and tried to stop her angry warpath, but she just threw his arms off her. "Let me go Soul, I don't wanna be here!" Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, and she pushed right through him, and made her way out of the lounge.

Soul stood, standing in anger, eyes bouncing from Ox to where Maka had run out. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he looked down to where Black*Star stood. Eyes closed and facing the ground. "Check on her first, that's what matters right now."

Soul nodded and followed Maka out of the lounge, and scanned the area. She was completely gone, like she hadn't even been there. Soul shoved his hands back in his pocket and went to the left, walking until he saw the slight stretch of an alley between the two buildings. Sure enough, he heard sobbing, and he made his way down the tiny space. "Maka? Hey Maka, you down here?"

"Go away." He looked down into the dark, and saw Maka sitting there, her knees drawn up to her chest. She had her arms wrapped around her knees, and tears streaming down her face. Soul sighed, and dropped down so he was sitting across from her, on knee up, and the other up against the wall. She looked over at him and frowned. "I said, 'go away'."

"Yeah well, I don't like it when girl's cry. Not exactly cool to ignore that." Soul answered simply, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"Can you answer me something?" She asked, her voice small, directed mostly to her lap. Soul opened one eye.

"Sure."

"Why do men cheat?" She all but whispered. "I mean it, why is it that every man you put into your life is a cheater?" Soul's frowned as she continued talking. "_Why can't any of you be trusted?!_" She screamed as she dug her fingers into her hair. Soul reached out and pulled Maka against his chest, and wrapped his arm around her. She fisted his black jacket into her hands and she cried. Soul just kept his arm around her, and let the girl he'd known for almost four hours cry into his jacket, while a voice in the back of his head, laughed at him.

_Not even four hours on the job and she's already been broken. What does that tell you about what's to come._

It wasn't his voice, but the voice he only heard when he was incredibly angry, when something was very, very wrong. A man with a red face who hid in mind, waiting for when he let his guard down.

He just tightened the arm he had around Maka, and sat there, letting her cry into his shirt, until Tsubaki finally found them, and she reached over took Maka into her arms. Soul nodded once before he got up, and made his way back to the rest of the group. Once there, he only looked at Black*Star before he looked back over to Ox, who was dealing with a girl with pink hair, screaming in his face. "Hey. You busy tonight?"

Black*Star shook his head grimly. "I'm free."

"Good. I need your help with something."

* * *

Black*Star wasn't who he had first appeared to be.

The immature freak that Soul had met earlier today had been replaced. Instead, a steel eyed man stood in his place, walking out of an abandoned house near where Soul had most of his fights. Somehow, the kid had managed to get ahold of what Soul needed, and had gotten it there quick. While Black*Star was getting everything ready, Soul was up against the wall outside, rolling a joint.

Inside, he could hear the panicked sounds of someone waking up somewhere they shouldn't, and he heard Black*Star laugh and call for him. Quickly, Soul lit his joint, and walked into the abandoned house, leaving a haze of smoke in his path. Black*Star was leaning against a beam, wicked smile on his face.

Sitting on the ground, was the freak who broke Maka's heart. His eyes kept bouncing from Black*Star to Soul, he gulped audibly. "Y-you can't be stupid enough to do this. I can see your face, I can go to the police!"

"The police?" Soul asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Like the men under Maka's father's control? Yeah, that sounds really smart. Actually, if I'm being honest, you'd rather deal with me than with her father." Soul dropped to a crouch, and blew his smoke in Ox's face. "So, I'm actually being kind to you, if you think about it."

"Let me go! This is so stupid."

"Can't do that." Soul shrugged. "Because you hurt Maka."

"You don't do that." Black*Star grinned from where he was stationed. Soul took on more long drag of the weed, and stubbed the joint out. He cracked his knuckles and smirked down at Ox.

"This is why we don't cheat."

* * *

Not two hours later, Soul found himself back against the wall outside of the abandoned house.

It hadn't been the most invigorating fight he'd been in by a long shot, but then, one scared guy against both himself and Black*Star, well, he couldn't really expect too much from him. Ox, for his part, at least didn't cry, but he took a beating and a half, nothing he would be able to hide, and tomorrow, everyone would have heard about what he did to Maka, but after the time he spent with Black*Star on the way back, Soul was sure that he wouldn't give a single clue as to who beat him half to death, the only thing anyone would ever know is that Ox cheated, and he didn't get away with it, not by a long shot.

The adrenaline coursed through his veins still, and he didn't have another fight for the night, so he found himself rolling his second joint of the night. Over the flame of his lighter, he saw Black*Star walk back up to him. "Sleeping Beauty's back in bed. We had one more talk about silence on our way back." He grinned up at Soul and flexed his busted fists. "Think I could get a hit off that?"

Soul passed over the joint, and Black*Star took his drag. "Thanks for backing me tonight."

"No problem, but tell me, why did you insist on this?" Black*Star questioned his new friend. Soul rolled the smoke around in his mouth for a few seconds before he released it into the dry night, watching it block his view of the stars. He might have smoked too much, because he could almost swear the crescent moon was grinning at him, blood dripping out over its teeth.

Yeah, Soul needed to get into a fight, and quick.

"Reaper told me my job was simple. '_Don't let anyone hurt Maka.'_" Soul recited. "Figured I might as well spend my first day following all the rules, don't you think?"

The blue haired boy threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, you're gonna be great to have around, I can tell."

Soul smirked back and sighed. "In that case, you think you could give a new friend some directions?"

"Sure, where?"

"The nearest Pit."

* * *

**Thanks for looking into this guys! I'm really glad some people out there like it!**

**Guest: Thank you! You're beautiful too!**

**Sorry if this chapter was a little long, but Soul and Maka were both telling me that they wanted to show what they could do!**

**Hope you liked it!**

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**-Eris**


	3. Feel Like A Monster

**Chapter Three:**

**Feel Like A Monster**

* * *

He hadn't had a lot of experience with therapeutic activities, but nothing ever worked like the Pits.

Soul trembled against the wall of the makeshift pit Black*Star had led him to, at his request. They had spent the car ride over in silence, Black*Star unwilling to ask, and Soul unwilling to explain the sudden need for a fight, the need to slam his fist into someone else, someone who wanted to hurt him, so he could hurt them back.

_You thrive in the darkness, you always have. _

The red man's voice was roaring in his ears tonight, and he just had to make it stop. So, when Black*Star had stopped the car outside of the pit, Soul and reached for his bag, and pulled out the mask that he carried with him no matter where he was. It was the mask of a demon, bright red, the face of the mask looked as if the skin had been ripped off of it, and it wasn't making a mean face, it was screwed up like it was in pain, screaming eternally as long as someone wore it.

"Whoa…that's…" Black*Star's eyes were wide, and Soul couldn't look at him. "Eater?"

"Yeah."

"Damn, when Reaper goes shopping, he doesn't go for the generic brand. I thought you were dead."

"They all do."

"So…are you sure you want to go back in there?"

"Oh yeah. I have to." Soul looked up at him, smirk on his face giving the blue haired boy a little more confidence in the snowy haired kid. He pulled off his shirt, leaving himself just in the dark jeans, and he stretched, popping his slouched over form back into its rightful place. He ran his hands through his hair and tied the mask on his face.

"Do you have a Meister?"

"Fuck that." Soul snarled, and looked towards the building. "Just three rounds, and then I'm out."

When he'd signed himself up, the bookie stared at him in awe, obviously not expecting to see that mask around the circuits ever again. But, he did his job, and he got Soul into the rounds. Black*Star pulled open his trunk, and rooted out a plain black mask, that was only decorated by one golden star on the front. He followed Soul into the Pit, an old abandoned high school, the gym having been converted into a bloody battlefield.

Finally, the scary monster of a man who ran this pit made his way to the front. He looked sickly, his skin almost blue, and his lifeless eyes scanned the room full of people "Alright! Eater vs. Fire and Thunder." He boomed, giving the fighters five minutes to get to the area. At the mention of his name, a collective shockwave echoed through the gym, and Soul bowled his head, knowing that this was risky, but feeling confident enough that after this fight, he could stop, for good.

Black*Star, mask blocking his emotion, slapped Soul on the back as he headed into the arena. Even the ref gave him a second glance as he stood in the center. The blue man grinned, and gave Soul a pat on the back. "Welcome back, Eater."

Two kids ran into the pit, making Soul freeze. They were 14 at the oldest, both of them thin, and the little girl's lips protruded out, her eyes downcast. The boy however, had a scowl on his face. He stood in front of the girl, eyes trained on Soul's mask.

_Fuck, they're just kids._

_**Those kids are the competition, you want to eat this week, right?**_

_Fuck you, I don't need the money, I've got a job._

_**Some job, you beat up her ex-boyfriend. These people used to fear you.**_

Snarling, Soul shook his head, and faced the two kids. They were in the pit, they knew the risk, and this obviously wasn't their first fight, so why was he ever questioning it? If it had been last week, he would've been halfway through his battle plan for them.

"Ready?"

Soul nodded, the red man laughing in the back of his mind.

The twins nodded, grasping each other's hands.

"Go!"

Faster than he had expected, one twin was behind him, and the other was in front of him. They both slammed their palm into his back and chest respectively. The sheer force behind the attack, along with the synchronization, and exact mirroring of each other's movements brought Soul to his knees, along with a splattering of blood that lined the inside of his mask.

_Fuck._

_**Just Kids huh? That didn't feel like a kid's hit. **__**Finish them off!**_ The red man screamed, and Soul snarled beneath the Demon's face, and he lunged for the kid in front of him. He grabbed the child in his arms, and rolled away from the other, holding one captive, and meeting the eyes of the one behind him. The boy, Fire, looked shocked, and then he just looked incredibly angry.

"Let her go."

"Throw the fight."

"Let her go!"

"_Throw the fight or I snap her neck!_" The mask muffled his voice, twisting it, turning him into the very image he was wearing. Fire's face dropped in shock, and in his arms, Thunder sunk her teeth into his arm. He kept his grip on the girl, not letting her wiggle free. Fire clenched his teeth, unable to see Eater's real eyes under the mask, preventing him from gauging just how serious his competition was about killing his sister.

"Fine! We call it!" Fire signaled to the blue ref, who only nodded, signaling the end of the fight. Soul immediately released the girl, and she ran to her brother, hiding behind him. Around him, the crowd bounced between cheering, and yelling abuse to the fabled fighter. Eater was known for his lack of discrimination between competitors, be they male, female, old, young or sick, Eater had never been known to go easy on anyone.

The two children ran out of the area, and Soul stood in the middle, shaking with adrenaline, waiting to be released in a real fight, a serious fight. The blue man walked back into the area, holding up his hands to calm the roaring crowd. "Alright, alright, calm down! Next up, Jack the Ripper Vs. Eater!"

Soul's head shot up, and his questioning was confirmed as a tall man, mostly naked except for some strategically placed black leather strips slunk into the area. His mask was pale, and split by his mouth, and held together with string. His nose was long, looking a lot like a stinger. His hands were adorned in razor claws, that caused Soul to smirk.

"Ripper huh? I thought you were out of the pits. Heard you got a Meister."

"Meister not here." Jack opened his mouth, his long tongue running against his bladed fingers.

"But you get to keep the weapons?"

"Still an Area fighter." The blue man sighed. "Technically he can keep them."

Soul zeroed in on his mask, and the strange sign above it. _Oh. He's with the Kishin. Figures. _

"Eater, ready?"

"Yeah."

"Jack the Ripper, ready?"

The creature only ran his tongue over his blades again, looking at Soul like he was dinner.

"Go!"

Instantly, reaper sprang for him, but Soul was expecting that. He crouched down until the monster was close enough to him that he threw his fist up, getting his arm sliced mildly in the process. Ripper was thrown off of him, and pushed back a little, collecting his bearings; he charged Soul faster, blades aiming straight for his chest. Quickly, the albino dropped to his back, as the creature overshot, using too much power, and completely flowing over Soul, leaving his chest open. Soul threw both of his feet into Ripper's chest, and watched as the freakishly skinny man was thrown off of him once more, onto his face.

Soul jumped up then, and dove onto Ripper's back, pinning his arms at the elbow joint with his knees. Ripper thrashed, but he was skinny, underfed, something that wasn't uncommon for an Arena Weapon. Meister to Meister, none of them cared about the fighters who went into the area for them. Win or lose, the fighters were usually treated like shit.

_**How sad, the way you creatures are treated.**_ The voice echoed in Soul's head, causing him to tense up completely, hating those rare moments when he actually agreed with the fucking demon in his head. _**Put him out of his misery.**_

_Shut the fuck up._

_**PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY, NOW!**_

Soul let out a scream, and moved to reposition his body, freeing one of Ripper's hands, but it was worth the risk. With the new position, he was able to slam his fist into the base of the creature's neck, hard. Ripper screamed, and sent his arm behind him, the blades scraping against Soul's back. He groaned as he felt the slippery heat of his blood drip down his back, and anger overtook his strategic mind. Again, he slammed his fist into the base of Ripper's neck.

And again.

And again.

The creature continued to scream, and the crowd roared in their approval, and Eater, win in sight, laced both his hands together, and ignoring the blades that shredded the skin of his back, he slammed his conjoined fists to the base of Ripper's neck, feeling the snap under his hands, and the final scream of the Ripper.

The entire crowd screamed in their approval, and Soul got off the body, shakily standing through the pain, as the blue skinned man came over, and gave the signal for the end of the fight. Behind him, without even realized the boy had appeared, Black*Star's hand was on his back. Soul looked back at him, eyes invisible under the mask, and the blue haired boy shook his head. "I don't know about the third fight, you're pretty beat up."

Soul only nodded, and looked over at the Pit owner. "I throw the next one."

The man slapped his back, unable to see Soul's wince under his mask. "Yeah, get out of here kid. The Kishin's men will send this info back pretty quick. Get out of here. And if you ever need anything, remember, the name's Sid."

Soul held out his hand, and Sid gripped it. "Thanks man." He spoke before turning away, and hauling ass out of here, Black*Star behind him. They ran to the car, waiting until they were a few miles away to rip off the mask. The younger boy sighed, and drove to the nearest Taco Bell, parking the car. Soul opened the door, breathing deep as the thrill rushed out of his body, and the intense exhaustion settling over his bones, the desire to sleep replacing his blood. Slowly, he wiped the blood off his face and reached back for his shirt, pressing it against the blood still shining on his back. Black*Star sat with his arms on the steering wheel, eyes facing forward as Soul tended to his wounds. "You…" The blue hair ducked down a little. "You don't mess around, huh?"

"You been to a lot of Pit fights?" Soul asked, eyes closed as he continued to remind himself to breathe.

"No, not many. If I go, it's a Shibusen Pit, not an independent."

"Yeah, it's different in my circuit. We kill each other. We always kill each other. If I wanted to live, I was going to have to kill him."

"You didn't kill those kids."

"They're still kids. Someone will get them out of the independent sooner or later, they'll get a Meister, they'll be alright."

"And the last guy?"

"He was going to kill me if I didn't kill him."

"You had him pinned."

Soul glanced back at Black*Star, who was looking at him confused. "So…?"

"So why did you kill him?"

"Felt bad for the poor bastard. He was an Arena fighter. He was all bone, and he was fucking crazy. His Meister didn't deserve to keep running him to death."

Black*Star nodded, and leaned back in his seat. "That…that is so fucked up dude."

With a shark toothed grin, Soul laughed. "I know. Believe me, I know."

"So why do you do it?"

Burgundy eyes narrowed as he considered his friend's question. "Because…because I had no other choice, I guess?"

"Hm." Black*Star grunted, before shaking his head and starting the car. "Well, at least now I know you really can protect Maka, from anything. Put your shirt on and get in the car Eater, I'll buy you a damn taco."

* * *

It was nearly four thirty in the morning when Soul finally walked back into the Albarn household. He made sure to be damn silent. If he ran into Spirit, he'd just say he took care of something he would have approved of, but running into Maka, that would be a little more difficult to explain. He closed the door behind him, silently, and he made it almost to the kitchen table before his back started to protest the movement. He chewed the inside of his mouth, and decided that crashing on the couch would be a much better choice than trying to sneak into the guest room. Quietly, he made his way into the living room, and paused when he heard soft breathing. Scanning carefully, he saw a tangled mess of black hair on the couch, hidden under blankets and pillows, in her own little nest. "Maka?"

The nest only muttered in response.

"Hey, Maka. What's up? Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

His charge's eyes opened slowly, and her face was the very definition of sleep. It was flat, and confused, and she kept looking around the room, trying to find out what exactly she was doing awake, when she finally looked up at him. "Soul?"

"Yeah, what are you doing on the couch?"

"I wanted to apologize to you." She explained, sitting up and yawning. "But you took for freaking ever."

"Apologize? For what?"

"For chewing you out today, I wasn't made at you, more like you as a representation for your gender. But you haven't done anything to me, so I shouldn't have done that to you." Maka frowned, picking at one of the blankets that made up her nest.

Shaking his head, Soul sat down next to her, and flicked her head. "You little moron, you have nothing to apologize for."

"Yeah, but…"

"Seriously. No problem." Soul smirked. "Now go to bed, you don't need to stay here."

"Okay." Maka sighed and sat up, crawling out of the blankets. "Oh by the way Soul, thank you." She placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled before walking away, leaving Soul by himself, and plenty of blankets. With a secret smirk, he shook his head and fell backwards, letting himself become lost in the heat left over from Maka's body, and the undeniable scent he couldn't describe as anything but pink.

* * *

Before she fell into her own bed, cold from lack of use, Maka flipped on her life, and froze when she saw the bright red smear left on the switch. She checked her hand, and was shocked to see it covered in blood; even more shocked when she didn't find a single slice marring her skin.

_Soul? Where the hell did you go tonight?_

* * *

She hated her job. She absolutely hated her job, everything about it. She hated it, she hated how she had to spend her days hidden in the background of all the Pits, never really able to get to the Arenas, where she would much rather be. But, it wasn't her place. She'd get there, but only as long as she took her orders now.

Not that it made Eurka feel any better about her situation now.

Her job, her job was even worse when she had something to report.

She was going to report now; mask pulled from her face, leaving the circular marks on her face as identification enough. Her mint colored hair flowed behind her as she slowly made her way to one of the more grandiose houses in Death City. Extremely extravagant, but terrifying in its own right, the house was dark, and it created a shadow over the city. With an audible gulp, she made her way to the front gate, and wrapped her fingers around the intricate wielding of the barrier and she waited for her contact.

Finally, slipping down the hill, a thin excuse for a human came lumbering towards the gate, their hand gripping their arm as they got closer, and Eurka groaned weakly. Of course, her contact had to be this kid.

"Crona."

"M-Miss Eurka. W-what do you have to report?" Crona asked, eyes never looking up. The kid's hair was cut raggedly, and it was pale pink in color. His eyes shifted from side to side, never looking at Eruka.

"Well, it's kind of important Crona…is Medusa inside?"

"She…she said for me to talk to you."

"Fine, whatever." Eruka rolled her eyes, and looked at the kid. "Tell her that Jack the Ripper is dead."

"H-he is? B-but how?"

Eruka gripped the gate with both hands now, eyes boring into Crona's. He flinched, but tried to keep the eye contact. "Eater is still alive, and this is the second one of the Kishin's warriors that he's killed. Tell Medusa that he's still alive."

"O-okay. I will." Crona nodded, and looked up at the house. "S-she…she won't like this."

"I know…I know…"

* * *

**Awh thanks for the reviews and things guys! I really appreciate you taking the time to read what I have!**

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**-Eris**


	4. Blood Colored Smoke

**Chapter Four:**

**Blood Colored Smoke**

* * *

Maka was annoyed.

Before, she would have been willing to say she was pissed, but after a sleepless night once she returned to her room, she realized that pissed wasn't the right word. She wasn't angry, she was just annoyed.

She was annoyed by her father, for continuing his pattern of lying to her about everything and everyone who came into her life.

And, she was annoyed at Soul, the albino with the shark teeth, the boy who, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, reminded her of a small albino bunny with razor sharp teeth that was secretly a vampire.

She'd even taken to calling him Binnicula, even if it was only in her head.

That fucker was backing her dad's lie with everything he had, and she couldn't figure out how he was benefiting from her father's lies. He didn't seem like the kind of person to deal with bullshit, so he must be getting something out of it.

She had to know what.

Pulling herself out of her nest, she crept onto the floor, glancing at the clock. She still had about an hour and a half before her phone would blare at her to wake up, which meant she had a half hour before her father would start his day.

That would be enough.

With her Nightmare before Christmas slippers secured on her feet, she meant business. Stealthily, she made her way to the guest room, only to find the door open, the bed made, obvious that it hadn't been inhabited last night.

Stealth forgotten, she headed back down to the kitchen, and looked over the railing that divided the kitchen from their living room, and she was able to see the couch, blankets rumpled and her nest from the previous night disassembled, and slept with in a normal fashion. She walked over, carefully pulling the blankets apart, trying to see if the boy was still there. Instead, she found the white shirt he'd been wearing last night. Picking it up, the saw the back was painted with dark burgundy stains, and she froze. The shirt itself wasn't torn, so whatever had happened to him, he'd thrown this on after.

_What the hell happened?_

_And where is Soul?_

She threw her head up and scanned the room, eyes finally landing on the back door. It was the only logical choice, so she made her way over, bloody shirt in hand, and she pulled the door open. The sun was barely cresting over the flat Nevada landscape, casting the world into a hazy blend of pink and purple. The surreal effect was transferred over to the boy in question, body slumped over the stairs on the deck, his back to her, smoke billowing from his form.

She took one step closer and gasped. Slices marred the flesh of his back, bright red, and barely closed. They went from between his shoulder blades, down to the very subtle curve where his back stopped being his back. Along with the cuts, a massive bruise, near his right kidney was only made darker by the hue of the light.

With difficulty, he turned around when she made the noise. His eyes were tired, and glazed, a small paper cigarette in his mouth as smoke leaked out from it. He frowned, but scooted over. Taking his offer, she joined him, and realized, as the next puff of smoke was sent straight for her face that Soul wasn't smoking a cigarette after all. "Mornin'."

"Hey…" She narrowed her eyes at him, and he only lifted an eyebrow.

"What?"

"What do you mean what!? What the hell happened to your back?"

"Got into a fight." He answered, lifting his arms out and stretching. A symphony of pops cascaded down his spine, and his front reveled that is wasn't healed either. A massive bruise that was in the exact same spot as the one on his back marred the smooth flesh there and Maka only scoffed.

"You got the shit kicked out of you."

"You should see the other guy." Shark teeth bared themselves with his statement.

"What happened?"

"I just told you."

"You're lying Soul, why are you doing that?"

"I'm not lying, you're just choosing not to believe me for some reason. Don't get pissed at me because you don't like the answer."

"Where'd you get into a fight?"

"Last night, bar hopping with Black*Star."

"Are you even old enough to drink?"

"I'm 20. Close enough."

Maka frowned, and fingered the bloody shirt in her hands. "Do you want me to take a look? This is a lot of blood."

"Nah, they've all stopped bleeding, and I've already washed them out." Soul shrugged. "Which is why I'm out here rolling one. Soap and cuts, man, they sting like a mother fucker."

"Why didn't you ask for help last night?"

"Ah, no reason to bother you. Don't need help with this shit. Pretty used to handling it myself, if I'm being honest."

"But you're not being honest…not even close." Maka mumbled, and Soul sighed.

"I am though; you just really don't believe me. Which I'm really not getting here, Tiny-Tits. I'm being completely honest with you."

"Soul…I just…you don't make sense. Nothing you say, nothing my father says, none of it makes sense. So why…why are you here? I just want to know."

"I'm here for school, Maka. I've told you that a thousand times. I'm here for school, okay?"

"What are you majoring in?"

The question caught him off guard, and he had to swallow his lungful of smoke, coughing it up in puffs, like a stoned train, as the question still rang in his mind. "Fuck."

"I was about to smack your back to help you. You're lucky I didn't."

"Yeah, really feeling the love here." He rolled his eyes. "I'm in school for Musical Theory."

"Really?" She sat up straight, and looked at him. He winced under her gaze, and focused his attention at the burning end of his joint. It being the only familiar ground he could handle facing right now. Fuck, he hadn't meant to tell her that. It was the first fucking thing that had popped into his head, and now it was out there. And this fucking girl with the apparently brilliant fucking memory was the one he spilt it to. "What do you play?!"

"Uh…Piano. I play Piano."

"That's awesome! You'll have to play for me sometime!" She grinned, and he forced a smile on his face, hoping it was more of a smile than a grimace.

"Yeah sure." He mumbled.

Maka smiled at him again, snatched the joint out of his hand. He watched with horror as she dropped the joint at her feet, and crushed it underneath the bobbing stuffed head of Jack Skellington.

"Awh! Maka! What the fuck!"

"If my Papa sees you doing this horrible, delinquent habit, he'll be pissed."

"Says the rebellious, black haired, bellybutton pierced delinquent in question."

Maka laughed, and stood up. "My mama got one with me, before she left. Yeah, it's not really my style…but boy…you should've seen how red my Papa got." Her grin wasn't anything less than wicked. "Now, put a shirt on, and I'll make breakfast okay?"

He smiled up at her, and nodded. "Alright Tiny-Tits. Whatever you say."

He had expected the book that smashed against his skull this time, but the smile stayed on his face, even as his teeth smashed against the cement and Maka huffed as she walked away, slippers bouncing away as she stormed off.

* * *

School was always hell for Soul, but now, with his back screaming with every move he made, school was so much worse than before.

Black*Star proved himself to be much more of an ass than he thought, seeing as the first thing the little fucker had done that morning was smack his back and congratulated him on showing up for school at all, much to the suspicious eyes of Tsubaki, Death the Kidd, and his two blonde counterparts.

A quick fist to the face had shut him up fast and the swollen jaw and kept him from spouting out anymore nonsense for the rest of the day.

This school day was a little different than the rest, seeing as Soul only had two classes, and there were three hours in between them. So, he spent most of the time in the lounge. It was a massive room, filled with tables, couches, chairs, and a coffee shop in the corner. He fell to one of the couches, flat on his stomach, and let out a sigh of relief that the pressure had been removed his back after a long morning and he could relax.

"So." A voice was immediately in his personal area, and his eyes shot open, ready to fight, but instantly relaxed when he saw the boy dressed in black, down to his jeans, sweatshirt and t shirt underneath. Soul wasn't exactly sure, but his shirt's design was so intricate and perfect, he'd have to bet that they were custom. Hidden inside the design, was the Shibusen skull. The kid's golden eyes were fixed on his, and the two girls, the one with the long hair braided over her side, her button up blouse opened to just about the bottom of her bra. The shorter haired one, she had on a cowboy hat, and a white shirt that was too big for her, draping off one of her shoulders. On the shirt was a cartoon giraffe with bubble letters declaring 'how's the weather up there?', and she had a huge grin on her face. Both of them sat to the side of the black haired boy with the three white stripes in his hair, looking nonchalant, but one hand closer to their back, where Soul was about 80% sure they had their guns hidden.

So, Death the Kidd finally speaks.

"How's your back?" Kidd's voice was soft, not sinister or deadly, as he had expected. Soul eyed him curiously. "Of course, where are my manners? I am Death the Kidd. But please, Kidd is fine. This is Elizabeth-" He gestured to the taller girl with the longer hair. "And Patricia Thompson. My companions."

"Liz and Patti work just fine." Liz smiled at him, her sister grinned even wider.

"Patti Patti Patti!" The sister in question threw her hands up into the air.

"Soul." The boy on the couch answered, only able to lift his head in a greeting.

"So, I ask again. How is your back?"

"How did you know?"

"Maka and I have been friends since childhood; our fathers have known each other since Reaper was just a beginner back in the Pits. She mentioned it to me today, she's quite worried. I was too, however, until I spoke with Black*Star, and after come careful goading, and giving into his idolatry a bit, he explained to me what happened last night, for real." Kidd explained calmly, before settling into his chair a bit more. "Oh, and what you did to Ox. I think it was well deserved."

"You…you didn't tell Maka what Black*Star said…did you?" Soul winced, thinking about how much harder the book would be brought down against his skull if she found out about Eater.

"No. I wouldn't wish to release that anger here. Or anywhere." Kid gulped, and Soul watched as he subconsciously rubbed his hand against his head. "But, I do think, you might want to head up to the nurse."

"No thanks." Soul growled, hands fisting into the cheap fabric of the couch.

"Soul…" Liz spoke up now. "We've been watching you all day, you can barely walk."

"Ha ha ha! Albino walks like an old man!" Patti laughed, clapping her hands childishly. "He takes two steps and goes 'ehhh my back'."

"Thanks. I get it."

"Look I'll level, Maka asked me to get you to the nurse. After what happened this morning, she was worried you'd think she was prying."

"She's prying through a freakin' middleman. She's advanced."

"You should've met Kami." Kidd smiled fondly. "She puts Maka to shame."

"Eh? Who's Kami?"

"She hasn't mentioned yet? Her mother."

* * *

Hands gripping the rail outside of the room, Soul wondered if listening to Maka was his job, or if he was just too scared of the repercussions to ignore her.

Roaring inwardly, Soul rapped twice on the door plainly labeled 'Nurse'. A woman opened the door, and looked him over. She was tall, in high heels that didn't seem to fit the rest of her. She had cornflake colored hair, short and choppy in the back, but her bangs were long enough to weave into a twist in the front. Her pupils were narrow, giving her a cat like stare, and her lips twisted up. "Hello? Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, I uh, I messed up my back." Soul mumbled, incredibly intimidated by the white coat.

"Oh, well, come in, come in!" She ushered him in with a grin and he took a seat up on the awkward bed/table/couch covered in butcher paper. His shoulders slumped with the exertion, and he let out a groan. "Oh dear, it must be pretty bad, huh?" Her face looked worried. "Why don't you go ahead and remove your shirt, I'll take a look." Soul did as he was told, flinching only twice as his body contorted in a way that caused one cut to sear into pain, leaving the rest of them to follow suit. Finally, the shirt off, and in his hands, balled over his wrist to hide the still healing scar from his suicide attempt. The nurse walked behind him, her eyes going wide. "W-what happened to your back?"

"Got into a fight." He muttered, and she cocked up an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No, not really." He scowled and looked up at her. "Just, are they gonna heal alright? Or…"

"No…they look nice and clean. Shallow enough that they'll heal on their own. Minimal scarring, but other than that, it should be okay." She reached for the pad on the edge of her desk. "I'll prescribe you some pain killers, to help with the ache, and let you get through your day better. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great, thanks." Soul managed a smile, and worked his shirt back on, and then his jacket, as she scribbled some notes onto a pad.

"I'll need your name, dear."

"Oh, uh, Soul. Soul Evans."

"Alright, here's your prescription, Soul Evans. And make sure you stay out of anymore fights! Let your back heal up." She smiled as she handed him the slip of paper. He took it and started towards the door.

"Will do. Thank again Nurse….uh?"

"Oh! Medusa." She grinned as he nodded once more and walked out the door. Once his footsteps had faded, the nurse's smile turned dark. "Got cut up real bad in a fight, huh?" She pulled out her phone and plugged in a number. As it rang, she kicked off her high heels, tapping her bare feet against the cool linoleum.

"Whaaaaat? Ribbet." Eruka moaned tiredly through the phone.

"Eruka. Tell me about the fight last night. With Eater. Tell me every last detail."

"Oh, now you're interested? Didn't seem to care when it was actually time for me to report." Eruka's bitter tone was a bold move for her, but Medusa only smiled.

"Eurka, if you and your little monster ever want to see the inside of an Area again, you're going to do what I say, when I say it. Understand?"

On the other end of the line, the frog-like girl sighed. "Why do you suddenly care now?"

"Because," Medusa smirked at the closed door. "How many white haired kids with a sliced up back could be walking around right now? Now talk."

* * *

The moon rose above Death City, bright enough that night to illuminate the town, shadows being cast at drastic angles.

Maka loved it, that much was obvious. Just a glance at her face showed her wide eyes scanning the stars, and viewing the patterns and constellations that they painted and connected across the night sky.

Soul however, was wary; eyes double checking shadows for anything that was sketchier than ordinary for a weeknight in Death City. The prescription was still shoved in his pocket, his family's old habit of not taking pills one of the only things still ingrained in his brain from the time he spent with them. So, his back still protested any movement he made, and if he ended up having to fight tonight, it would be a bitch and a half.

"Hey Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you see Ox today?" she asked, walking backwards now so that she could face him. He kept his poker face on.

"Yup."

"He was pretty beat up."

"Yeah, I saw that. Didn't look good."

"Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you do that?"

"Huh? Why would I do that?"

"I don't know."

"Eh." Soul grunted as they continued walking. They were meeting the rest of their little group at some Hookah bar, across town. Earlier, Soul had about lost his shit, thinking that Hookah wasn't something St. Maka would even entertain. After an introduction with Maka's WorldBook, and a haughty _it's not like it's bad! Mostly vapor!_ Soul had agreed to come, even though technically, Maka was Spirit's responsibility after nine at night, but he didn't care.

Finally, they were able to spot the rest of the group. Black*Star started screaming at them, and waving his hands. Soul rolled his eyes but continued walking, until Maka reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked back down at her, eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

"Thanks Soul. You didn't have to do that." She smiled at him and he felt a blush tint his face.

"Yeah, well I didn't." He mumbled, but Maka rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand.

"Whatever, let's go!"

* * *

With his mouth open, and smoke billowing out of it, Maka kind of thought Soul could pass as a dragon.

The sweetened tobacco was doing its job, her head was buzzed pleasantly, and a stupid grin was plastered on her face. She was giggling at the way Patti was able to rip massive hits from the hookah, and the way she laughed out the smoke, to the fear of both Kidd and Liz.

Black*Star and Soul were currently trying to inhale more smoke than the other, the look of pure concentration on their face, and worried look on Tsubaki's face as the two of them looked dangerously close to passing out. Maka only laughed and put the hose back into her mouth, the candy flavored smoke dancing over her tongue.

Finally, both boys pulled away as a steady stream of smoke poured from their mouth. Both tried to argue their claims to success, the smoke distorting their voices, and making it lower. Maka and Tsubaki only laughed at the two, their heads shaking slowly.

"Hey, Tsubaki, haven't you had any yet?" Black*Star asked, head tilting. The tall girl only smiled sweetly.

"Oh, no…I'm not too sure about this." She mumbled and Black*Star scoffed.

"Come on, it's not gonna hurt you!"

"I-I know, I just…I've never done it before." She explained. "I don't know what to expect."

"Well, here, shotgun someone if you're so nervous!" Black*Star grinned like he was the smartest boy in the world, and Tsubaki frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"Hmmm." The blue haired boy brought his fist to his chin in deep thought. "I'll show you. Hey Soul!"

"No fucking way."

"What!? No! That's not what I was going to say! Please! You wish I would lower myself to your level!"

"Keep dreaming."

"Ugh! No! I mean show Tsubaki what a shotgun is on Maka! That way she'll know!"

"Eh!?" Maka looked up shocked and even Soul looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Come on! Just do it so Tsubaki can have fun too! Who knows if they even have this in Japan!"

"Umm…they do…"

"Do it for her! It's a teaching moment!" Black*Star goaded, and Maka looked down blushing.

"You got a problem with it?" Soul mumbled, looked over at Maka, eyes genuinely concerned if she was freaked out or not.

"N-no, I guess not." She mumbled, eyes landing on her childhood friend. Kid was sitting forward, trying to arrange the two cube shaped coals so they were perfectly aligned with the rest of the hookah, but his eyes glanced over to Maka, and he grinned, obviously enjoying her embarrassment.

"Alright." Soul shrugged, and took a lungful of smoke into his body.

"Alright, check this out Tsubaki!" Black*Star pointed her face towards Soul and Maka, who had put down the hose, placed his hand on Maka's face, and pulled her mouth to his.

Open mouths pressed together, they made a seal, but the slight grazing of Soul's sharp teeth, and the accidental flick of his tongue made Maka forget how to breathe for a second, before her body kick started and she inhaled the sweet smoke that Soul was pushing into her mouth. After a second or two, she pulled away, her secondhand smoke trailing towards the ceiling. Next to her, Soul was still blowing out smoke, Maka obviously losing her courage before she could even commit to the full exchange.

Across from them, Tsubaki was bright red, but Black*Star looked like a kid at Christmas. "See Tsubaki, it's fun, and that way, you can see if you like it!"

"O-okay I guess." She mumbled, face still a vibrant red.

Soul leaned back on the couch, and watched as his excellent wingman skills got Black*Star just what he wanted, a shotgun marathon with his charge. Next to him, Maka seemed to be completely back to normal, so he called it good.

Making sure no one was looking, he ran a thumb over the corner of his mouth.

_Not bad, Tiny-Tits. Not bad._

* * *

The walk home was quiet, but a good kind of quiet.

There weren't the shattered sounds of something ruined, but there also wasn't the suffocating silence of something begging to be freed.

Soul preferred it that way as he kept his eyes over the shadows, making sure the creatures that seemed the writhe and squirm in the darkness kept their distance from the girl next to him, tugging on her black pigtail, the head buzz from the hookah still obviously affecting her.

The night was silent, Maka was silent, and the air was silent.

And suddenly, it gave Soul the worse feeling in the world.

Almost a second too late, Soul tackled Maka to the ground. Her protests drowned out by the pain spreading across his back. Crouching over Maka, he looked over his shoulder, at the slender body whose knife was imbedded in the wall in front of them. He growled, and got up, pulling Maka with him. "Leave, Maka. Go home."

"Soul, who the hell is-"

"Go home Maka!"

"No, I'm not going to leave you here!"

"Maka please!" He begged, before dropping to his knees again, pulling her down with him as the limber, skinny thing tried to attack him again. "Awh fuck! Maka just get out of the way!" He snarled, and she did comply with that, crawling to the nearest wall, and curling up against it, fear etched onto her face, changing the way she looked.

Soul never wanted to see that look on her face again.

He stood, facing the person who wielding the knife. "Who the fuck are you?" He demanded, fist tightening by his side. The person walked a little closer, knife swinging by his side. The person had shredded pink hair, wide pale purple eyes, which frantically went back and forth as they tried to get a grip on what was going on around her. They were wearing a baggy black sweatshirt, and black jeans, his head bobbing around as he looked at Soul.

"I don't know, today. I don't know."

"Just leave, now." Soul ordered. "I won't fucking hold back."

"You have to be punished." The person intoned. "She said you did, and she's never wrong."

"Leave kid. I mean it." Soul growled, his voice dropping a couple octaves, making him seem less like Soul, and more like a monster.

It scared Maka. It honestly scared her.

_How're you gonna fight without being able to really use your back?_ The Red Man laughed gleefully at Soul's struggle, his words ringing a little too true to give Soul any reassurance.

Without warning, the pink haired freak lunged at Soul, swinging the knife. Soul blocked by slamming his fist against the kid's wrist, and bringing his knee into his side. It pushed the kid back, but Soul hissed at the pain up his back, and the throbbing in his knee.

_He's like fighting a brick wall._

_**You'll just have to hit back harder.**_

Still completely focused, the kid came at Soul once more, slashing and slamming and bringing on an honest to god fight, his moves filled with a confidence that didn't fit the timid kid before. Even on a good day, Soul would have had trouble keeping up with him. He was like a different fucking person.

The kid threw his fist into Soul's face, and he felt a crack in his jaw as he flew back from the hit.

_Right, no mask, no cover_. He reminded himself a little too late of that fact as he propped himself up on his elbows. The kid wasn't swaying now, his eyes hard as a rock, a manic grin spread across his face. Spitting out blood, Soul got back to his feet. "Who. The fuck. Are you!?" He snarled, and the kid only grinned.

"I don't know. Yesterday, I was Crona. But today, today I think I'm Ragnarok." His grin was manic, and he ran his tongue across the blade, which only reminded Soul of Jack the Ripper, which in turn, only served to piss him off.

"Fuck off kid."

"Bring it on, Eater." The boy hissed through his teeth, and behind him, he heard Maka gasp.

Yeah, that's just fucking perfect.

"Soul lunged at the kid, fist aimed for his face, before the kid bent backwards in an inhuman way, and his knife ended up cutting down Soul's side. He groaned, but continued his momentum until he was on top of the one who called himself Ragnarok. Soul tried to pin his arms with his knees, but he kid had already flipped them, Soul being pinned beneath him. Ragnarok pinned one both of his wrists above his head and held the knife in his free hand. Soul struggled against him, but he couldn't seem to get free.

_How is he so fucking strong?!_

_**You know exactly how, and you could be just as strong as he is.**_

"You're weaker than I thought. How disappointing." Ragnarok spat as he looked down at Soul. "You took down Jack the Ripper, I'd thought you'd be something amazing."

"Ripper was a piece of trash weapon. Worth nothing to anyone." Soul snarled, eyes landing on the knife for the first time that fight. It wasn't exactly large, but it was enough to do damage. A hunting knife for sure. Wasn't a sword by any means, but it would rip Soul apart easy enough.

"That wasn't for you to decide fuck face!" Ragnarok snarled, and then laughed gleefully, so intent on his win, he didn't even hear, let alone sense the kick to his head that Maka served. Foot connecting painfully with his ear, Ragnarok was sent flying from Soul, and he hit the ground hard. Soul immediately got back up to his feet, and grabbed Maka's arm.

"I'm not fucking kidding around here! Run Maka, now!" He snarled but she shook her head.

"I'm not leaving you here!" She argued.

"Hey, bitch. You really shouldn't have done that." Ragnarok looked back at them, madness staining his purple eyes. "You'll regret it." He laughed as he lunged for Maka, intent to kill smothering the small area. Watching as the man wielding her fate got even closer, she found herself frozen, fear paralyzing every cell in her body, every reaction stopping. The only thing she could do was close her eyes and wait for an impact.

Warm blood spattered against her face, and dripped down slowly, but the pain never came. Her eyes opened slowly, and all she saw was black.

Black leather.

"Soul!" She screamed, as the boy in question took a stumbling step back, before falling completely at her feet. She had to dive to catch him, but she managed to do it, propping his torso up with hers. His head lolled against her neck, and on his chest, there was nothing but a sea of red. The cut spread from his left shoulder down to his right hip, and it was bleeding, fast. Ragnarok stood frozen for a second, before he shook his head.

"Oh…oh no, we should go." He looked down at his shoes. "We did what she asked, now we should go." His voice was timid, and he looked scared. Suddenly his face morphed into a mask of anger. "Are you fucking stupid?! How do you know he's even dead!"

Before Ragnarok could answer himself that, Maka heard something she'd never thought she'd be so glad to hear in her life.

"MAAAAAAAAAKAAAAAAAAAAAAA! MY PRECIOUS MAAAAAAAAAKAAAAAA! WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUUUUUUU!" Her father's voice howled through the night, and she swallowed hard.

"Papa! Help Papa please!" Tears welled in her eyes, as Ragnarok's face went from pissed, to terrified. One last glance at the broken body in Maka's arms had him fleeing, leaving his gruesome mess behind him. Throwing her head back, Maka screamed at his retreating form. "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU HEAR ME! I WILL FUCKING DESTROY YOU!"

"MAKA!" Her father called as the turned the corner to find them, the look of relief on his face immediately washed away when he saw Soul, slumped in her arms, his blood painting the street beneath him. Quickly, he began pressing his hands against the wound where it passed over the young fighter's heart. "Maka, is any of that blood yours?" He asked, his voice deadly serious. She shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes uncontrollably. Spirit only nodded before placing his daughter's hands where his had been. "Pressure sweetheart, okay? Just for a few minutes." Maka did as she was told, pressing hard against the wound by his heart, as her father barked orders into the phone. In no time, the wailing of sirens headed their way, and a group of paramedics arrived. They immediately swarmed Soul's body, and pushed Maka out of the way, leaving her on the ground while they started treating him the best they could at that situation.

Once he was stabilized to move, he was loaded into the ambulance, and they went away, screaming into the night.

Still on the ground, Maka sat in horror as the last few seconds played across her mind. Warm heat surrounded her, and she looked up to see her father, placing his coat around her shoulders. Tears evolved into sobs as she got up and wrapped her arms around her papa. The blood of the albino was covering her, and it was now slowly staining his clothes, but Spirit only wrapped his arms around his daughter, trying his best to ward of the pain the next several hours would bring.

Unfortunately, there are some things even Papas can't fix.

* * *

**Yeah, I made Crona a little Dissociative Identity Distorder-y, because well, Ragnarok wouldn't work well as his own character, hope you don't mind!**

**Thank Yous:**

**Penguin MoFo: Thank you! you're fucking amazing for reading, not to mention your pen name is the shit.**

**ThatOneChickWhoWritesFanfic: Awh! I'm glad you like the AU! And yes! This story is named after the DCFC song! Props to you for your excellent taste in Music! Thanks for reading!**

**Guest: INFINITE HUGS! THANK YOU!**

**Silly Twin Stars: I won't lie, when you reviewed I had a nerd moment because I freaking love your fic so much, and here you are! reviewing mine! i'm glad the funny balances the dark, and I want to thank you so much for reviewing! It's so nice! Thank you so much!**

**GrossGirl18(x3): Thank you for reviewing each chapter!**

**Yes, Spirit is police commissioner because Lord Death has a very warped sense of humor.**

**Maka isn't the type for a belly ring, no, but she is the type to piss off her father, any way she can.**

**Well...she got to see him fight now? ;)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Oh thanks for all the reviews my lovies! I appreciate every one!**

**Want to do it again? :)**

**Love you!**

**-Eris**


	5. Fix You

**Chapter Five:**

**Fix You**

* * *

She had only been there for twenty minutes before she had completely redecorated the entire interior of the hospital, and in her plan, nothing was white.

The color, or absence thereof, hadn't ever really bothered her; she'd even go far enough to say that she liked it. She had a white headband that now looked freaking fantastic with her hair dyed so dark, but now, she hated it.

It was everywhere, that fucking color. The walls were white, the floors were white, the coats were white, and her father's face was just as white. Maka was curled up in a plastic chair, her knees pressed against her chest, father's jacket still resting around her shoulders. Carefully, she tried to release the fingernails she had embedded into her palms the second she had been seated in her father's car and they had gone squealing off to the hospital.

Hands opened, she realized they were still bathed in the red of Soul's blood. Most of her was, her tights, now ripped, were stained, and she was sure under the fabric, her skin was stained as well. Her skirt and shirt hadn't escaped the spray either, a splatter across the white shirt with the Death City skyline done in black. Her chin quivered again, and she felt her face tightened when she remembered the blood on her face as well. She'd been baptized in his sacrifice tonight, and she had no idea how to let that thought process go further than it already had.

He had been willing to _die_ for her.

No hesitation in the slightest.

Eater…her fighter, had stood in front of her, mind probably going through a thousand different was to avoid that attack, but couldn't find one that would protect her too, so he took the hit instead.

Soul was Eater.

Eater was Soul.

Soul was a fucking liar.

Large hands covered her smaller, and she looked up to see her father, his normally emotional face blank, and reserved. "Maka, you're shaking." She hadn't even realized she had been. She tightened his jacket around herself tighter, and she met his eyes again, hers blank. "Maka, I need you to give a statement, do you think you can do that?" Spirit gestured someone over, and a kindly woman came and knelt down in front of Maka, a timid smile on her face. She had long, wavy blonde hair, and pale skin that pretty much screamed 'Nordic Background'. Her eyes were soft and golden, sort of like Kid's, but much more motherly. One eye was covered by an eye patch, which (although unconventional) fit her rather well. She wore a longer black skirt, and a black sweater. She had a badge pinned to the front of her jacket, boldly declaring her rank as detective.

"Hello." Her voice was soft, and Maka glanced over at her. She took one of Maka's hands in hers, and when the child didn't pull away, she spoke again. "My name is Detective Mjolnir. But you can call me Marie, if you'd like."

"M-Maka. Maka Albarn."

"Oh, you're Commissioner Albarn's daughter huh? Well, you don't look a thing like him. Lucky you." Marie smiled, and behind her, Spirit's face fell. He knew assigning Marie this case would only get him even less respect from his daughter. But, Marie was good, and her and her partner, well, they could be trusted to get to the bottom of this quickly, without the media getting a hold of it.

Or worse.

Speaking of... "Hey," Spirit intoned, looking around. "Where's your ol' Battle Axe anyways?"

"At the scene." Marie answered. "Now, go on Commissioner, skedaddle."

"Excuse me?"

"Maka is over 18, and therefore, doesn't need a parent and or guardian present when she is being talked to."

"This isn't an official interview!"

"No, but you know as well as I do that having a parent listening in can throw a child off! Now, shoo! Go get me and Detective Azusa some coffee. And cookies. Maybe a scone. Yes. A scone." Marie ordered, and Spirit just stared at her like she grew a second head. "Shoo. Go. Now."

Feeling very much like a dog with its tail between its legs, Spirit hobbled away from his daughter and his employee, fetching her coffee like it was the other way around.

Maka, had watched the exchange intently, a small smile on her face. Marie looked back down at her, and smiled. "I do just tease, you father is a great Commissioner, really."

"I guess." Maka spoke, her first words since she had screamed towards that pink haired person who had attacked her and Soul. Marie only smiled wider and gestured towards the empty chair next to Maka.

"Mind if I sit?" Maka only nodded, and Marie settled down into the chair. From where she was sitting, Maka caught the scent of the woman's perfume. It smelt like autumn. Warm, crisp and slightly spicy. It was comforting, in a way, to smell something other than antiseptic floor cleaner, and the underlying scent of death that permeated these hallways. "So, have you heard anything on your friend?"

"Soul…his name is Soul." Maka mumbled, and Marie nodded.

"I apologize; no one had thought to mention his name to me. How careless." She sighed, before pulling out her notebook, and scribbling the word 'Soul' at the top. "He have a last name?"

"I…I don't think he'd want me telling the cops his name." Maka answered, well, in all reality, her gut answered for her. Soul wouldn't want that, he barely spoke to _her_ and she had no power over him whatsoever, textbook or no textbook.

To Maka's surprise, Marie only smiled. "Yes, I might have considered that. Very well, I'll save that for when I get to talk to him. Now, Maka, can you tell me what happened to you two tonight?"

"I-I…uh…" Maka stuttered, her hands beginning to vibrate again. She looked down at the shaking appendages, and gulped when she realized how much of Soul's blood was still on her body. Marie frowned when she saw this, and took Maka's hand, and lead her into the nearest bathroom. The younger woman stood as Marie adjusted the temperature, and added just the right ratio of soap, before gently taking Maka's hand in hers, and slowly washing the blood away. It panicked Maka, at first, to see the only proof she had of Soul being alive slowly dissipated from where she had been grasping it so tightly, but she allowed Marie to work the blood off of her hands and arms, and finally, the blood on her face. After the Detective took a step back to check out her work, Maka looked into the mirror above the sink.

She looked pale, and there was no doubt she'd been through hell. Her eyes were ringed by shadows, while puffy, the whites of her eyes red from the excessive sobbing she had been doing since the knife had cut down through her friend. Her clothes were unsalvageable, that much was obvious, but, without the blood, honestly felt a lot better. Looking down at her scuffed combat books, she offered the older woman a soft, "Thank you."

"Of course." Marie enveloped the girl in a hug, and Maka reluctantly hugged her back.

"I-I'm ready to talk now."

"Excellent." Marie walked Maka back to her chair, and situated her father's coat around her small body so that the cold wouldn't bother her any more than it already was. Next to her, Marie's notepad was back out, her pen at the ready. "So, Maka, can you tell me what happened to you and your friend tonight?"

"We…we were just walking back from the Hookah Bar, off Morte Avenue, and we were walking home…"

"Soul lives with you?" Marie lifted up an eyebrow.

"No…not like that." Maka blushed, bringing some color into her pale face. "He's staying with us, with me and my father, until he gets his own place."

"Oh. I see." Marie scribbled all of that down too. "Alright, please continue."

"Okay…we were walking home, and it was normal. It was normal, and quiet, and all of a sudden, Soul tenses up, horribly. Before I can even ask him what's wrong, he's suddenly tackled me to the ground. I…was…I was about to yell at him, for being such and idiot, when over his shoulder, I saw the person. They had pink hair, black jeans, black jacket, and a knife."

"Were they male or female?" Marie asked, and Maka rubbed her temples.

"I don't know."

"I know this is hard Maka, but every little bit helps."

"…No…I seriously don't know. Their face was soft, feminine, but their voice was deeper than a normal girl's would be. Hair was cut in a way that would suit either. I honestly don't know." Maka answered, face miserable. "Soul…he…he told the person to leave, he warned them. The kid only came at us again. Soul told me to run, told me to go home, but I didn't. I didn't want to leave him there, I...I didn't think he'd be able to handle himself." She smiled ruefully. "He proved me wrong."

"So, he was able to fight back?"

"…Decently…I guess…Soul…he hurt his back, yesterday. He got into a fight at the bars, and some people roughed him up really good. So he wasn't firing at 100% to start with…I can't explain this right." Maka pushed the heel of her hand into her eye. "I'm sorry Marie, I just…I can't."

"It's okay Maka, you've done well. You've done very well, don't worry. You've helped immensely." Marie assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Okay!" Spirit's voice joined them, however, the man in question couldn't be seen, as he had four cups of coffee, and a giant bag of goodies covering his face. "I pretty much got one of everything considering I couldn't remember what you had decided on."

"Good call." Marie smiled as she stood up to help Spirit. A coffee was handed over to Maka, and hastily written on the side in Sharpie was _3 sugars, extra cream_. Even though it didn't change the events that had happened, she still appreciated that her father at least knew enough about her to get the coffee right.

In her pocket, her phone jerked to life, vibrating like crazy. Carefully, she pulled out the iPhone, and unlocked it.

**Tsubaki: Are you alright? The police are swarming the area around the Hookah Bar!**

**Black*Star (Ignore if Possible): Soul isn't answering. What happened Maka?**

**Kidd: Father informed me of what happened. Will be there soon, reaching out for information on who it was. Will keep you posted. Heard anything on Soul?**

She could only stare at the names shining on her screen, before barely formulating an answer.

**From: Maka Albarn**

**Group Message: Tsubaki, Black*Star (Ignore if Possible), Kidd**

**I'm fine. Soul is hurt. Don't know anything yet. **

She clicked send and hoped that the tone in her voice would be enough to keep them at bay for a while. She couldn't keep answering questions that just reminded her she didn't have the answers to them. She hadn't heard about Soul, anything on him, for the last hour, it had been silent. Not even an update on his condition.

_He could be dead, and you wouldn't even know._

"Ahem. Who's here with the albino?" A voice called across the waiting room, and Maka all but flew out of her seat, her father close behind her. Next to her, Spirit froze, and took in a massive gulp of air.

"Oh God, what are you doing here?"

"Bossman. How you been?" The voice from earlier greeted. It was a doctor, judging by the white coat. However, Maka knew him, she knew him for a completely different reason.

It was the man who checked the IDs at the fights, the one that was constantly sewing himself. Her eyes went huge, and when the man, who had stitches all across his skin, dropped his eyes to her through his glasses, he tilted his head. Obviously something about her was ringing a bell, but he couldn't, for the life of him, call it to mind. At the moment at least. He ran his hand through his silver hair and gave Spirit a winning grin. "Glad to see me?"

"Don't you fucking touch me." He ordered the man, who only sighed.

"Relax Bossman, I'm not here to examine you. Lord Death called me in for this personally." He smiled down at Maka. "I'm Doctor Stein, by the way, your father's friend."

"Papa?" Maka asked questioningly, but Spirit had gone completely white, and couldn't answer.

"It's Maka, right? My, you couldn't look more like Kami if you tried. Well, except for the hair. I assume that was on purpose though."

"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY WIFE OR MY DAUGHTER!"

"Ex-wife, isn't it?" Stein grinned, and finally Marie stood up.

"That's enough you two." She admonished, before looking up at Stein. "The boy?"

"Ah! Right, the Albino. Yes. One interesting piece of work you brought in there." Stein looked down at his chart. "But, the operation was a complete success! He should be fine. I mean, he's beat to crap, but you know, he's breathing." Stein looked up at them. "And if he complains about any extra pain, or scarring, don't worry, that's normal."

Spirit looked horrified. "Y-you didn't."

Stein only shrugged. Maka, getting her bearings, grabbed the doctor's coat. "C-can I go see him?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah, sure. He's not awake right now, but absolutely, go for it."

The young girl didn't need to be told twice, she pushed right though Stein and hauled her way back to where Soul was being treated. Stein smiled and shook his head.

"You can't fool me." Spirit spoke up, causing both Stein and Marie to look at him.

"What?"

"What else? I know you Stein, we worked together for years. What else is it?"

"Eh…I don't think you're going to like this, Bossman."

"Well?" Spirit pushed, arms crossed.

"The kid's a junkie."

Ice encased Spirit's body, and he swallowed hard. "Please tell me you're talking about heroin."

"Oh…I wish." Stein shook his head. "He's not a current user, the track marks have healed almost completely, it was only under, ahem, _closer examination_, that I even came across them at all. He hasn't used in…oh…I'd say….two or three years."

"The kid got clean, and stayed clean this long?" Marie asked, eyes wide. "Wow Spirit, who's weapon is this kid? His Meister must be impressive."

Spirit swallowed hard. "No, he's Meisterless. I saw him in a Pit fight. An independent Pit fight."

"No." Marie shook her head. "No, that's not possible. The only thing Shibusen and the Kishin will agree to work with us with is keeping that drug out of the street circulation. It's hard as hell, but it's not available for the public."

"Then tell me how the hell, a kid like that, lived long enough in the Arenas to not only get out, but to survive a Black Blood addiction?" Spirit clenched his fist. "So, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Stein nodded gravely. "The kid's a time bomb. Either he'll snap and score, or the stress of all of this will wear him down completely. Either way, he's screwed."

"Great." Spirit laughed bitterly. "Anything else you wanna throw in there?"

"Well…apparently someone else has already taken out his appendix. I couldn't find it."

* * *

Machines. Right now, Soul was more machine than Soul.

His heartbeat was in time with his breathing, slower than it should be, labored. The blanket was bunched down by his waist, showing Maka how completely bandaged up his chest was. Bandages were wound from his hip, to over his shoulder, blood staining through them already. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and she traced the lines of his IV up to more machines.

_This is my fault._

Standing there, a boy she barely knew dying a few feet away from her, she realized she had no idea what to say. She crawled onto the foot of his bed, sitting between his feet. She brought her knees up to her chest again, and made herself small, so she wouldn't jar him, so she could protect him from just a little more pain. "Soul?"

The breathing was her only answer.

"Soul…Eater? I...I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. If I had run…maybe just a little bit faster, or had just left, you would be okay. Soul…if you wake up, I promise I'll make it up to you…" She sniffed, and rubbed the heel of her hand to brush the tear off her face. "Even if you are a stupid, fucking liar."

Behind her, there was a timid knock on the door, and she heard footsteps enter. She didn't even have to look to know it was her father. He didn't approach her, he stood back by the door, waiting, gaging her reaction to the entire situation.

"Why is he really here?" She asked her father, and he exhaled.

"He was supposed to watch out for you, the way Black*Star protects that Nakatsukasa girl." Spirit answered. "I found him when I was surveying the Pits around Lord Death's territories. He was an independent fighter, pretty good one too. He won a fight he should have lost. He was planning on disappearing. I caught him before he left, offered him the job."

"You took an unknown fighter off the street to look after your only daughter?" Her voice was flat, and she never turned to look at him, her back was his only way to read her, and all she was offering was the slouch in her spine, her fatigue weighing heavily on her body.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because, Maka, I've been in that kid's shoes, and I've worn the fear and pain I've seen on his face. He needed to get out. That life was going to kill him, and it seemed like a waste, when he could be so much more." Spirit explained. "What shapes you, it doesn't go away as you get older Maka, the fear that dominated your adolescence, it will be the defining factor for the rest of your life. Soul needed something else to dominate his life."

"What if he dies?"

"Stein said the operation was a success."

"Doesn't mean Soul will live." Maka mumbled. "He got the shit beaten out of him yesterday, before this. He was already in bad shape Papa. What if Soul dies?"

"He won't, he's impossibly strong. It's impressive really."

"Papa. What if he dies?" Her voice broke over her sentence, and Spirit frowned. She didn't move towards him, didn't move from where she sat, even as her shoulders began shaking, and tears decorated the back of her hand, but she still didn't move. "What if he dies because I was too scared to do anything but stand there?!"

Spirit had to choose his next course of action very carefully. For one, he wasn't sure how Maka would react to him telling her the truth, or if he tried to placate her with soothing words and a reason to stop crying. "I think, that should he not make it, he'd be glad knowing he died for something worth living for. After all, you don't get many chances like that in his life. Maka, dying for you, will probably be an honor for him."

That was all it took.

The floodgates behind her eyes crumbled under the knowledge that her father was undeniably right about his assessment. After all, Soul, who had barely known her, had beat her Ex-Boyfriend for cheating on her, for hurting her, and he had willingly stood in front of the blade of a madman for her, knowing perfectly well that it could possibly end him.

He did it for her.

A stranger, who did nothing but tease him, and abuse him with several different tomes.

The sobs she had tried to choke down broke through her barriers, and right there, on the bed of her guardian angel, in full view of her father. She sobbed harder than she had since her parents had divorced, and her Mother had just left her, gone without two words.

People always left her, they always did. No matter what they said, no matter what they promised, people always left.

_Please, please Soul. Don't be one of them. Please don't be one of those people who leaves._

* * *

Cold, all he knew was that he was cold.

He wrapped his battered arms around his body, and tucked his head into them, completely ignoring the footsteps approaching him.

"Are we cold?" The mocking voice sounded so much louder than it usually did. The shiny black shoes were all Soul was able to focus on, forcing one of his eyes open to verify. It was him, the red man, and the red man was stronger than he was, like he used to be, when Soul was younger. Soul tried to wrap himself deeper into his body, and the red man threw back his head and laughed.

He hated when he laughed.

"Do you feel it, Soul?" The red man asked, kneeling down on one knee, his voice too close to Soul for any sort of pretense of comfort. "Has it returned yet?"

"Fuck off." Soul hissed behind clenched teeth, but he was unable to add his usual hatred to the insult, because, as sick as it made him, he could feel it. He'd felt it ever since he'd woken up in the darkness around him. His body screamed for a hit, something he hadn't touched in _years_, and all he wanted was to shoot up, everywhere. Every vein he'd ever used was popping against his skin, ready to take him on the ride he was looking for. He trembled violently, trying to remind himself that the crawling he felt all over his body wasn't actually small demons the red man had conjured, but his nerves. They were waking back up, after being incased as long as they had been.

"Poor little Soul, wasn't strong enough to save anyone, so he went off to the shadows to die. Fitting, aren't you, always near the madness, but never stopping it. Like the Cheshire Cat, watching as a child battles against the Jabberwocky. What kind of coward sits and lets the child face the Jabberwocky alone?"

Soul's fingers gripped his hair, and he pulled to the point of pain, just to feel anchored to something. He hated the red man, hated that the red man had free access to his mind, his memories, pulling the warm memory of his Mother's soft voice reading _Alice in Wonderland_ to him and his brother, his childhood fear of the fictional Jabberwocky sending his emotional state into absolute chaos. The cold only got worse, but he felt his skin break into a sweat, and he gulped at the air as if he were drowning. The red man only dance around him, laughing, taunting, gleefully singing the names of the dead that were seared into Soul's heart.

His body lurched, and he landed on all fours, emptying his stomach, as the intense cramping felt absolutely hellish as the pain spiked through his battered body. He screamed in agony, landing on his side and curling back into himself, shaking, and unable to tell if the cool liquid dripping down his face was sweat, tears or blood. The red man was really laughing now, slapping his knee and shaking his head. "Oh, look at the great Eater. The boy who never stops fighting in truth. Look at you, laying there crying like you deserve to. You're just a worthless junkie, and you know it's all you'll ever be. A worthless junkie. Just like you'd always believed. So tell me, Eater, what do you want?"

"Leave me alone!"

"Oh, let's not lie to each other, it will only make our relationship that much harder down the road."

"Fuck off!"

"Tell me what you want!"

"Leave me alone!"

"TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!"

Soul threw one of his arms out to his side, and felt the liquid pour down his face. "SHOOT ME THE FUCK UP! GIVE IT TO ME, YOU RED FUCKER! COME ON!"

The red man's laugh turned downright demonic after Soul let a choked sob escape from behind his clenched teeth.

_Soul!_

He was weak, he was weak, and he couldn't help anyone that way.

_Oh my God, Soul! Please!_

That fucking demon owned his blood, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

_Soul wake up, please!_

* * *

The shaking body attached to the hand she was grasping thrashed harder against whatever danced in his head.

Maka turned her head back to the door, and yelled for Stein, as a scream escaped from Soul's body. The hand she had fallen asleep grasping in both of hers tightened around her smaller hand, and she let out a hiss of pain as the sheer strength behind his body.

Stein finally ran into the room, immediately checking over the machines. After his initial scan and rescan, he allowed himself to relax. The boy wasn't jerking around anymore, but he was shaking. Stein let out a small sigh of relief. "It appears to have only been a nightmare. He'll probably wake up soon." The patch work man glanced at Soul's chest, and saw some of the red blooming against the white of the bandages, and he shook his head. "I'll get some more bandages."

Maka watched him leave, then eyed the young man who's hand still clung to hers tighter than she would have thought possible for a kid as lean as he was. She placed her free hand above his, and slowly worked to massage the hand that clung to hers so desperately. "Soul?" she whispered, working to release the hold on her fingers that were slowly turning them white. "Soul, you're okay, you're safe. It's okay."

He groaned, and Maka's eyes shot to his face. It had been nearly six hours since she'd been allowed to come back and sit with him, and in that time, she'd moved from the foot of his bed to the little bench seat attached by the window to get some sleep, which she had done until he'd started screaming. Now, she had dragged a chair over to his bedside, and she had brought her hands to hold his, and she'd been there since his first breakdown, about an hour ago. He moaned again, fighting to regain consciousness, and he popped one eye open, slowly looking around. His eye met Maka's and he opened both, and yawned. "Wha' th' fuck?" He slurred, pain medication obviously slowing down his thought process. "Where am I?" He asked.

"H-hospital." She answered, and he made a face.

"I don' feel anythin'…musta been bad, huh?"

"All the doctors say you're lucky." She answered, hand still covering his. He went through his usual 'day after a fight' process, and checked the movement in his feet. It was delayed, but they moved. So did his legs. When he tried to move his hips, searing pain rocked through his world, and he choked at the sudden loss of breath. He released Maka's hand, and looked up at her.

"B-bucket?" he asked, and Maka reached for the plastic basin that Stein had placed by Soul's bed a few hours ago, and handed it over to him. He took it, and curled onto his side, obviously painfully, and he dry heaved into the bucket a few times, yielding nothing but stomach acid. His eyes were screwed shut, and his shark teeth were clenched while he waited in between bouts of nausea. Maka had stood up now, her hand pushing his long bangs out of his face. Her hand was cold, and he found himself unconsciously leaning into the soothing ice against the burn of his skin. Another round with his head in the bucket, and he had fallen back onto the pillow, breathing deeply.

"You alright?" Maka asked, her eyes on the ground. Soul looked up at her, and gave a weak smile.

"I've had worse, don't worry."

Her eyes narrowed, and his smile faded quickly. "I know."

_Bring it on, Eater._

"Oh…fuck…" He growled and Maka's hands clenched into fists.

"You are Eater." Not even pretending it was a question, her green eyes just locked onto his hazy red ones.

"Yeah."

"You lied."

"Of course." He answered. "You don't go around yelling your fight name around. Especially when that specific fighter is supposed to be dead." He curled in around himself, finding laying his side didn't cause him to choke from the pain in his front, and in his back. Maka eyed him curiously, watching him shake. She placed her hand on his forehead again, and the skin burned under her palm.

"Why did you lie?"

"I told you."

"No, I mean about why you were here. Why you were in my house."

"Spirit said not to tell you. Said you had a habit of slipping your guards."

"I do."

"I didn't want you running from me."

"How did my father find you?"

"He followed me from my fight against Rasputin." Soul answered, closing his eyes as he spoke. He could almost sense the distress that caused Maka, so he brought them back to half mast, so she could at least see a sliver of red. "Caught me in the middle of my suicide."

"_What_?!" Her voice was sharp, but soft, a breathy exhale. He looked up at her and grinned.

"Suicide isn't really my style, I know, but let me tell you, when it's between a bade in your hand, and the mercy of the Kishin, go with the one that will hurt less Maka. Always remember that." He drawled, and Maka's eyes looked down, she wouldn't meet his eyes, but Soul could feel the tremble from her body echo in the hand still pressed against his forehead, that slowly slid down so it was pressed against his cheek. "Maka?"

The girl didn't look up at him, her trembling continuing to become more pronounced. "Maka, why are you crying?"

"Why did you do that…why?"

"Do what?" Snowy eyebrows met over confused burgundy and Maka looked up at him, her eyes dull, and tears gathered up in the corners, waiting for the slightest wave of emotion to convince them to make the jump out of her eyes.

"Jump in front of that freak…I've seen you fight…Soul…I've watched you fight for a year. You could've avoided him, so why didn't you?"

Soul exhaled, and brought one of his hands up to take the hand she had pressed against his face and grip it the same way he had when he'd been screaming in his sleep. "Because, he was going to hurt you. Maka, that kid didn't come after you, he came for me, because I was stupid. I'm not about to let you get hurt because I fucked up. I won't be responsible for that; I won't let you get hurt." He forced the words to come out without the slur that his medication had been forcing on his words into a slurred, connected mess.

Maka looked away as the tears finally fell from her eyes, and rained down on her bloody stockings. Soul pulled his eyes away from her face, and they traveled down the rest of her. She looked so worn down, shadows in her eyes, dark brown stains covering her clothes, and a blanket from the hospital she had more than likely taken from him when he was out. He growled and tugged on her hand, so she'd look at him. Her watery eyes only barely met his eyes before he gave her a small smile. "Maka, go home. Get some food, shower, sleep. I'll be fine here."

"No-What? No way, I'm not going to leave you here." She frowned, echoing her words from the night before.

"Maka, you look like you need to get out of the hospital."

"Soul, I'm not gonna leave you here alone-"

"YOU! NURSE! YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHERE SOUL IS! I CAN FIX HIM! MY SPIRIT IS SO STRONG I COULD FIX ANYONE! TELL ME WHERE SOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUL IS NOW!" The unmistakable voice of Soul's blue haired friend echoed through the hospital, impressive, because Maka knew that they were some distance from the nurse's station.

Soul winced, but then grinned up at Maka. "Well, I'm not alone, am I?"

"Like hell I'm gonna leave you with him."

"Awh, Tsubaki's probably with him. It'll be fine. You though, you're not. Maka, you need to get some rest."

"I'll sleep here."

His hand tightened around her. "Maka, please? Get some sleep?"

"Soul…" She groaned, but then her ears picked up Black*Star's running feet, screaming her guardian's name.

"Maka."

"Fine." She growled, and stood up. "I'm coming back later."

"I'd be insulted if you didn't."

She turned herself towards the door, her hand on the knob. "I'd be dead, if you hadn't."

"What?"

"If you hadn't done what you did, I'd be dead."

"Maka…"

"Thank you, Soul. But please, _please_, don't ever do anything like that again."

* * *

She had slept, buried in her nest of green sheets, for more than 12 hours.

Luckily, that only meant she woke up around six in the evening, her hair a mess from going to bed with it wet, from a shower that had been much hotter than necessary. She yawned, and pushed herself out of bed, headed for her dresser. She didn't care right now, so she just pulled on a pair of jeans, a tank top and a sweatshirt. She pulled her hair up into a bun, and she went to brush her teeth.

In the kitchen, she shoved some food down her throat, and emailed her professors from the day that she had an emergency and wouldn't be at school for the next couple of days. Once that was done, she leaned back, took a deep breath, and counted to one hundred before she got up, threw on her shoes, and made her way to the bus station.

It didn't feel right to leave him alone in the hospital, when it was her fault he was there.

The note that had been on her nightstand from her father had explained how he had to go to work, trying to find the kid that attack her and Soul. And a slight plea because Stein had apparently gone and called Spirit, saying that Soul was already asking when he could bail out of the hospital, Spirit wanted Maka to convince him to stay there until Stein could clear his health, for good.

So, she caught the bus, and she made her way to the hospital, signed in with the information desk, and made her way to the ICU, where they were still keeping him, because he was still an at-risk patient. She was standing outside of his room, when a hand came to rest on her shoulder. She looked behind her, and Stein was staring down at her, unlit cigarette in his mouth. "I'd wait a minute. He's in there with Marie."

"Oh." Maka frowned, and took her seat outside of his room. "How is he?"

"Oh, in an increasing amount of pain, but hasn't said it out loud, so I can't actually do anything to help him with that. Both Soul and Spirit would be loath to hear me admit this, but they're quite similar, when I look at them. The same people. By the way, I finally remembered where I knew you from."

Maka froze as he threw out his offhand comment, and she glanced up at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, Angel Face right? That was your mask?"

"How did you know that?"

"You have a scar on the back of your hand, probably from a break when you were little; they had to fix it invasively. So did the Angel Faced Girl." Maka stared at him in shock, and he gave her a mad smile. "I like scars, Maka, I notice them."

"And my dad told you that Soul-"

"Is Eater. I'm kind of impressed, to be honest, I'd always thought Eater to be older. He fights with a knowledge of a much older fighter." Stein sighed, and shook his head. "Too bad he's an idiot."

"Huh?"

"Eater. He's an idiot. Spirit showed him a way out, an escape. Yet, he goes and hits the nearest pit he can. But, it's also expected, if he's this young, and this good."

"Another pit?" Maka's eyes narrowed. "The fight he got into the other night…"

"Yes. I'd say that he found another Pit. Jack the Ripper is dead now, and his tool of trade was blades. I heard that Eater's big entrance after the Kishin called him out was against Ripper."

"He went back?"

"I don't think he knew what else to do. He's young, and he's seasoned. I don't think the kid knows anything else but the Pits. He's addicted. And addictions, they're hard to break. He'll get called back time and time again. Just ask your father, before your mother came and helped him get his life on track. With addictions, you either win, or you just let it kill you."

Maka frowned and looked over at the possibly insane doctor that had been called in on favor by _someone_, because the other doctors looked at him in fear. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Soul has grown up with only self-preservation in mind. He's hurt people; he's _killed_ people, just because they stood before him and threatened his existence. That's what the fighters do. However, someone comes at him with that exact intention, and he stands there and lets it happen, so he can save you. You're obviously one of the only people he might possibly listen to about his little…problem."

Maka's frowned deepened as he said this; everything he said made perfect sense. While she considered this, the door to Soul's room opened, and Marie walked out, looking more annoyed than satisfied. She looked down at Maka, and she sighed. "You must be up for sainthood, dealing with him."

"Was he rude?"

"No," Marie pressed a hand to her forehead. "He's just a fighter. Quite obviously a fighter. Answered my questions with half-truths and more sarcasm than I thought possible when it comes to a kid in too much pain to even sit up."

Maka frowned, and walked into the room. Soul was lying on his side, and pulled his head up, looking over his shoulder. He took one look at her, and sighed, head back on the pillow. Now that he'd been awake for more than twenty minutes, he looked slightly green, and pain stained his eyes. She walked over in front of him, and shook her head. She brought her textbook down on his head, and he howled. "What the hell?!"

"You aren't an animal Soul, you don't get to be rude to detectives who are just trying to do their jobs."

"Yeah, well," he groaned, rubbing his head. "I don't need anyone digging through my file. Don't want that in the slightest."

"Because you're a fighter."

"Yeah, that's part of the reason."

Maka sighed, and crawled back up onto the foot of his bed, cross legged. He readjusted himself slowly, so he was lying on his other side, and wouldn't have to keep looking over his shoulder to look at her. "Why the long face Tiny Tits?"

"You're a fighter. Fighters just don't stop fighting." She mumbled, and Soul cocked an eyebrow.

"You going somewhere with this."

"You…you aren't going to stop, are you? You need to fight, you can't stop."

Soul clenched his teeth, her words echoing the demon's same jeer. "I could. I haven't wanted to, but I could."

"Soul…no more lying, okay? It's just going to make everything so much harder."

"Maka-"

"You don't want to stop, because it's been your life, for so long. I understand that. And I...I don't want you to get hurt again. I _can't_ let you get hurt again."

"You've got it backwards. It's my job to protect you, not the other way around."

"You're not a nameless Shibusen soldier who hides in the shadows of Lord Death's mansion, okay? You're right next to me, all the time. You're my guardian, and it's my job to make sure that you aren't put in any situation to bring even more danger to yourself. You aren't a toy Soul, and I refuse to treat you that way."

"What's your point?"

"I don't want you fighting, it's dangerous, and it's pointless. The person that attacked us, they weren't a Pit fighter, they were too good. Not like the kind of fights I've been watching." Her eyes narrowed. "Besides, they attacked _you_, and you're Shibusen. That's unforgivable."

"So?"

"So take the fight back to them. That kid was an Arena fighter, so let's take the fight to them."

"What?!"

"Let me be your Meister, Soul. Let's end this, all of this."

* * *

**Thank Yous:**

**The-7th-Star:**

**Thank you for the review! I'm glad that the whole split personality angle worked for Crona's character, I really like the who conflict behind Crona, and it's still there, it's just internal!**

**I'm glad you're enjoying it! Thanks for the review!**

**ThatOneChickWhoWritesFanfic: **

**I'm glad you liked the chapter!**

**And yeah, that scene was similar to when Maka and Crona first meet each other, I know, but I loved that scene. That moment, when Soul through himself in front of Crona for her is a favorite, (and not just because I ship SoMa so hard...) but because that was when Maka decided she was going to get stronger, she was going to become something to be feared, and I believe that scene, and Soul's scar, were the first big push she needed to become the Maka that everyone loves. Without it, she wouldn't be Maka, so that's why, even in the AU, that still had to happen.**

**Sorry for the rant, and thanks for the review!**

**KamuiLumior: I'm so glad you're liking the story! And that Crona's personality disorder works so well! I love Crona as a character, so we'll be seeing more of him/her later on! Promise!**

**As always, thanks for the review! I appreciate it!**

**So, I was wondering if you would be able to help me out! I want to have a Soul Resonance aspect to this story, but I don't know how to go about doing it, and still keeping the AU, any ideas on how that would work!? I'd love to hear them!**

**Thank you for all the support!**

**-Eris**


	6. The Cat In The Hat

**Chapter Six: The Cat In The Hat**

* * *

It only took Eater a day to get absolutely sick of the hospital.

Unfortunately, to the chagrin of the nurses, and Stein himself, Soul's body wasn't quite ready to bail out yet. He was looking at a week under watch, _minimum. _It also didn't seem to help that the last time Spirit's daughter had come to visit him, it had erupted into a screaming match, which ended with Maka storming out, book clenched tightly in her hand, and Soul, who's screaming had reopened a section of his stitches, with goose egg on the side of his face, leaving him with a black eye to compliment the swollen jaw that Ragnarok had bestowed upon him.

After that little encounter, Stein had called Spirit, and had kindly asked to keep Maka at home if she was just going to come and beat Soul up a little more. He didn't want to keep the restless fighter in the hospital any longer than he had to.

Stein stood in the boy's room now, stubborn red eyes glaring at the doctor's distrustfully and he switched IVs on the younger man. "Now what are you giving me?"

"Painkillers."

"I swear to God Patchy, if you put another sedative in my body, I will flip some serious shit."

"And its threats like that which cause you to end up sedated." Stein answered, squeezing the bag a few times. "You drool a lot when you're sedated. Does that have to do with your teeth?"

"What?!" Soul growled, and turned his body slowly so he was lying on his side, facing the other way. "No…yes? Maybe? I don't know."

Stein reached into his pocket, feeling the scalpel there. "We could find out."

"No, no. No need for that." Spirit's voice joined theirs, and Soul looked up, while Stein only sighed and dropped his head.

"You're no fun, Bossman."

"I've heard." Spirit only answered before looking over at Soul. "How're you holding up kid?"

"Your battle ax of a daughter isn't here, is she?" His voice was neutral, but the slight glare of fear flashed across his eyes. He couldn't still feel the resounding smack of that book to the side of his face.

"_A weapon only goes for a Meister when they're ready to die!"_

"_You think I would lead you to your death?!"_

"_You're a Meister, ain'tcha. That's all they do."_

Soul would be loath to admit it, but he probably could have handled that particular conversation better. But, it was the Arenas they were talking about. Shit was different there; none of the weapons were allowed to wear masks, and there was no 'calling the fight'. No, if two fighters went in there, only one came out. No exceptions. It was kill or be killed, and it was brutal. Not like the Pits, where you killed if you had to, but it was merciful. It wasn't drawn out unless it needed to be. In the Arena, if an opponent could be reduced to sobbing pleas to save their life, it was considered a great fight.

Not to mention, the fighters were a completely different caliber than he was. Sure, for a Pit fighter, he was amazing. He hadn't lost a Pit fight in _years_, but that was nothing compared to Arena fighters at their prime. Jack the Ripper hardly counted. Ripper was a product of the darkest side of the Arena. He'd probably landed himself a Meister that just wanted to make the money, and just fought Ripper to death in one particular skill set. Ripper had been kick ass in his day, and if it had even been a year ago, Soul wasn't sure he would have been able to beat the man.

A year in the Arena was more than enough time to destroy your life.

"How dare you call my precious angel a 'battle axe'! She's a perfect little angel with angel wings and a halo, and she does nothing but spread love and cheer wherever she goes!" Spirit started babbling, than looked at Soul's face. "Did you always have the black eye?"

Soul gave a sigh, and closed his eyes. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah. It was there, it just hadn't showed up yet." Soul spat, and looked up at his boss. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Just…came to see how you were doing." Spirit mumbled, scratching his face. Soul only raised his eyebrow, and Stein brought his fist down on Spirit's head. The red headed Reaper growled, before looking down at Soul. "I…I came to thank you."

"What for?" Soul's lazy scowl came back to his mouth, tension easing from his shoulders as Stein's promised painkillers took effect.

Spirit mumbled something under his breath, and Stein lifted up his fist once more, before Spirit dodged his hand. "OKAY! I wanted to thank you for…for saving my daughter."

Soul's scowl deepened, mostly to distract from the red that was staining his face. "That's what you hired me for, isn't it?"

"You went above the call of duty, and we both know that." Spirit rolled his eyes. "So I wanted to thank you for that."

"I was just doing my job." Soul muttered, really wishing the man would just _stop. _He hadn't done anything that anyone else wouldn't do; he didn't understand why it was such a big deal.

"Regardless, thank you." Spirit sighed, and poked Soul's black eye. "And, for whatever reason she did this, I'm sorry."

"Yeah…just…stop buying her books. Please? She pulls them out of nowhere."

* * *

He woke up the next day to find Maka standing at the door to his room.

Her lips were drawn into a pout, face tinted red as she apologized for Maka chopping him yesterday. Soul only smirked and waved his hand, giving her permission to enter. She took her regular seat next to his bed, set her backpack on the ground next to her, and propped her feet up on the mattress. "How're you feeling?"

"Ah. 'M fine." He shrugged her off. Maka highly doubted that. He still had that slightly green look to him, but she wasn't sure if it came from the pain, or if the medication was what made his stomach churn. His chest was still bandaged tightly; brown stains peaked through the fabric here and there, from when he'd moved too much, and reopened the delicate line of stitching that held his body together. He was still curled on his side, half of his face buried into the pillow. His words were still slurred, her guardian obviously still under the influence of the painkillers, and probably would be for a while. She knew of his power, knew how he had the ability to destroy men three times his size, to move quicker than anyone his age should have knowledge of, and knowing this, she wondered how a man so dangerous could manage to look so sad laying in a hospital bed.

"You don't look fine."

"You're a day maker, you know that?" He muttered, and she scoffed at him, flipping her hair over her shoulder. He took the moment to stare her down. She looked better than she had the last time he'd seen her, those dark bags under her eyes had all but disappeared, leaving a faint shadow beneath the green that was only really noticeable if the light hit her a certain way. Her clothes looked more put together than thrown on, back to her skirts and button ups, no longer rocking the hoodie and jeans. "Where's your arsenal huh? I wanna know how many hits you have, so I can time out my insults accordingly."

Maka's face turned red again, looking away so he couldn't read her face. "Stein confiscated the contents backpack before he let me come in here."

_God bless Patchy_ Soul exhaled before relaxing a little bit more. "Can't say I'm mad."

"I know," her face was still red as she reached into her backpack, and pulled out a thin paperback. "I snuck this one in though, since technically, it's not for me." She held the book out to him, and he took it, the familiar cover art bringing back memories he'd long since forgotten. "You talked about it a lot when you were out of it, figured since I had a copy…" Her face was getting redder by the second, and Soul felt a smile break across his face.

"_Alice in Wonderland_ huh? Wouldn't have pegged this as something you liked, Bookworm."

"It's not." She admitted. "Too much fantasy, not nearly enough reality for my taste. But, I mean, you kept mumbling about the Cheshire Cat, and Mome Raths. So, I brought you that. Figured, you know, if you got bored or something."

Soul smiled at her again, but set down the book. "Thanks, but I'm not much of a reader."

"…Do you know how to read?"

"Fuck you. Yes I can." He rolled his eyes, and opened the book. "But if 'm being honest, all th' little words look like fish right now." His ruby eyes flitted towards the door. "Patchy's taken to drugging me excessively, keeps me more 'manageable.'" Soul yawned, then looked at her. "Does he have a medical license? Because I keep waking up with cuts in my mouth. I think he's trying to steal my teeth.

Maka could only shrug, pulling the book back, and opening it to the first page. She didn't want to bring attention to the fact that the first person Shibusen called to help him may or may not be a secret Dexter-like serial killer. "You're the only one missing out then." Her eyes scan the first page of the book her father had gotten her years ago, one of the few she'd never picked up. Just like books tended to do, the words started tugging at her soul, pulling her into the written world.

Soul watched as her face relaxed, her eyes scanning the page as the story started to come together for her. "Oi. You just gonna read it in your head? Rude."

"What, you want me read it to you princess?"

"Which one of us is the princess?" He shot back, before scratching the back of his head, a light shading of red running across his cheeks. "I just figured, if you're gonna sit there and ignore me, you might as well include me in the story. 'Sides," He yawned, and glared at the bag of medication he was attached to that made him sleepy. "I like listenin' to you. Read th' thing."

"Soul-"

"Please read th' thing?" He whined, and Maka rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright, I'll read the thing." She held up her hands in submission, face looking exasperated, but her eyes shining. "Come on, let's go to Underland."

"Wha?" He slurred, eyes narrowed. "'S just Wonderland."

"But I thought-"

"Nah, don't listen to your freakin' Tim Burton, ya emo." He snorted, and readjusted himself on his side. "It's Wonderland."

She clenched the book in her hand for half a second, before she convinced herself not to smack him. He was flying on painkillers, it wouldn't even hurt. "Alright, fine. But scoot over, okay? If I'm reading, I don't want to sit in this stupid chair."

"You'd make a broken man move?"

She scoffed, and made a shooing motion with her hand. "Come on, don't you want your story?"

"Yer a freakin' slave driver." He bemoaned, but pushed himself back slowly on his bed, making just enough room before his back was pressed against the railing that kept him from falling out.

"You idiot, I mean move your feet." She gestured down to the foot of his bed, where she normally sat. "I wasn't going to make you move!"

"God fucking-well I already moved. Might as well enjoy it." He growled, looking away. Maka smirked, and toed off her boots, crawling in next to him. She slid into the spot he gave her, his forehead resting against her shoulder, as she crossed her ankles. He exhaled quietly, but she could still hear him, slightly hissing from the pain that being jarred had caused him.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know." He answered, smiling though the pain. "It's fine. Besides, you smell better than these damn hospital sheets anyways."

"You just hate it here don't you?"

"Are you gonna read? Cuz if not, you can put yourself right back on that little chair."

The crime princess only laughed, and opened the book. "Alright you big baby." She started in on the story, allowing herself to be drawn in as much as he was, her soft voice traveling down the rabbit hole with Alice, after the strange albino rabbit. Every so often, she'd interrupt the story, asking why the stupid girl wasn't thinking straight, and every time she did, Soul would moan, and tell her to let the book explain.

It was around where Alice decided that knocking back a bottle of something that said 'Drink Me' was a good idea that Maka stopped again to question. This time the boy at her side didn't answer, and when she looked over at him, she found him sleeping, face clear of pain, and a line of drool from his mouth to the pillow. She couldn't stop the smile that decided to stretch across her face, but she did decide to let him sleep. Marking the place in their book, she slipped it under his pillow, so she wouldn't have to sneak it past Stein every time, and made to move off his bed.

"You could at _least_ finish the chapter before you run off." His gravelly voice informed her, hand wrapping around her waist to stop her from slipping away. Maka scowled down at him, mostly to hide the blush that had erupted across her face, but Soul never opened his eyes. He was in a blissfully medicated state between sleep and drugs, and he'd be damned if she didn't finish the freaking chapter, when it was so close to the end too.

"Sorry." She mumbled through her teeth, and reached for the book again, while trying to reclaim the same comfortable position as before. Once sufficiently settled, she started back in on the book, expecting Soul's arm to release her once he'd gotten what he wanted. Instead, his grip tightened microscopically, and another hum escaped him before he settled off to sleep again. She finished the chapter, per his request, and paused once she finished.

She received a sleepy order to keep going, and she complied, a smile spread across her face the entire time. The more she read, the more she kind of began to like this Alice story, even if it was completely illogical, with no real happy ending in sight.

It was nonsense, and wonder, and a world that could change at the blink of an eye, where even though everything seemed wrong, it all ended up being right.

She gave another glance down to the sleeping body next to her, and focused on the line of drool that had returned with vigor. She understood why he liked the book now, a kid that grew up in darkness like him; he'd need a little madness.

"Hey, Maka." Soul mumbled through his teeth. "Don' leave until I wake up, okay?"

"Uh…okay. Why?"

"Cuz I don't want Patchy playing Dentist anymore."

* * *

Stein would never admit to being a legally bound doctor. He was much too curious for all of that.

It was because of this curiosity, and a particularly angry nurse with vibrant blue eyes, who seemed to always have the misfortune of trying to keep the bandages rolled up, but ended up covered with them more often than not, that he's looking through the artifacts the hospital had taken when Eater had been admitted. The nurse wanted him to find out Eater's last name, so they had something to put on the files, but Stein was more curious in what Eater had that made him a target.

The clothes in the bag are bloody, the jeans stained a dark purple from where his blood had settled. The black leather jacket was covered in blood too but it seemed, at the very least, repairable. His shoes were bloody too, and all in all, it just seemed easier to toss them.

Grabbing the jeans, Stein started digging around the pockets, looking for anything, some cash, some drugs, maybe some needles, something that would have provoked someone to go after Eater the way they did. Instead, all that the doctor managed to produce from his search was a balled up piece of paper. Unfolding it carefully, he read the hastily scribbled prescription that had been made out to one Soul Evans, but it was the name scribbled at the bottom that interested him more.

_That narrows it down._ He decided, finding the odds too of her being involved in Eater's life were just enough to consider that she had something to do with what happened. It had been a long time since he's seen her, a long time since she'd started that work of hers. He wondered if she'd ever advanced in what she was seeking.

Perhaps he should find out.

Pulling out his phone, and a cigarette, he searched through his numbers until he found one he hadn't touched in years. Pressing the 'Send Message' feature, he began typing.

_Drinks tonight?_

It isn't two minutes before the phone buzzed in his hand.

_Anything for you, Sweetie_

* * *

Spirit found himself standing in front of the church.

It wasn't exactly a common stomping ground for the red haired commissioner, but it was a good place to start. Suffice to say, Lord Death was nowhere near pleased with the attack that had occurred on Maka and her Guard, and he wanted answers now. So, Spirit went to the widest network they had.

The doors of the old church opened with a creek, dust flying form where his shoes pressed against the aged red carpet. Around him, wooden carvings of the crucifixion adorned the walls, the moonlight casing colored shadows through stained glass windows. The musty smell spoke of years of worship and faith; trust in their God passed down for years.

Which is why Spirit nearly stopped short when he heard the music.

_Ass and titties, ass, ass and titties. _

The older man whirled around and found Father Law knelt down at a pew, his head bent in prayer. The young priest was dressed in simple robs, his pale blonde hair dyed blue from the color of the stained glass window, making his hair match his eyes. Spirit hissed, Justin hadn't aged a day and his stupid headphones shoved halfway up his ears, volume loud enough that Spirit could hear every freaking word in his song.

_Ass and titties, and big booty bitches_

Spirit pulled up his foot, and pressed his boot against Justin Law's face, the younger man's eyes shooting open and gasping, flailing away from Spirit. He pulled on headphone from his ear, and tried to catch his breath. "Oh, Spirit, you nearly scared me to death."

"What kind of music is that for a priest to be listening to?"

"Oh, the Lord accepts all music, for each song in its own little way is a testament to his glory."

_A nigga gotta get his dick sucked, get his dick sucked_

"Uh…huh…" Spirit only shook his head, and Father Law stood back up again.

"What can I do for you?"

"Wondering if any of the regulars are down in the basement, need to talk to them."

"Did something happen?" Justin asked, leading Spirit towards the basement door.

"My Daughter was attacked last night, and she couldn't put a name, or affiliation, to the attacker, and I was just wondering if anyone could."

"Is she okay?"

"Oh yeah she's fine. Her hired hand did his job better than I could've hoped. They're both completely fine."

"Well, I'll be sure to pray for them both." Justin smiled, leading Spirit down the stairs. The farther down they got, the more the smell became less than satisfactory. Swallowing the nausea, his blue eyes scanned the room, looking for the usual suspects.

"Hey, hey! Commissioner!" A cheerful voice called for him, and he grinned widely.

"Blair! I was hoping you'd be here."

Justin sighed, and put his headphone back in his ear. "Try to remember that this is a church, alright?" The priest took himself back upstairs, and Blair bounded over to him, her smile wide as she shoved off the blankets she had covered herself in. She was still dressed for work, her top barely covering her very plentiful assets, her shorts ending just at the swell of her ass. Her boots were shiny, and her make up looked perfect, which told Spirit the kind of night she'd had. Her long purple hair fell down her back and her grin when she caught him in his sights was downright cat-like.

"What's up Papa Albarn?" She grinned at him her eyes big.

"Well, any chance you were down on Morte Avenue last night Blair?"

"Hmm…no, Blair was on Shi Street! But Mizune was on Morte, come see!" Blair grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards her friend. Mizune was curled up on her cot, arms wrapped protectively around her body, a sheen of sweat suffocated her skin. Her eyes were at half mast, and were glazed over. Spirit frowned as he placed his hand on her forehead and her skin smoldered under his touch. Next to him, Blair's smile fell, and concern replaced her face. "She was fine an hour ago."

"What happened Blair?"

"Last night, there was some new stuff brought in. The guy Mizune was…you know, servicing, he let her try it for free. Last night, she was flying with the stars; you could see it in her eyes, so today she went to get more of the same stuff…and now…"

Mizune's hand groped the area around her, and Blair knelt down next to her friend, holding her hand. "C-cold." The tiny pinkette whispered into the area around her. Blair reached for her blanket and wrapped it around her friend.

"Zu, can you hear me?"

"Hmm?"

"When you were on Morte, did you see anything weird?" Blair pushed, moving her friend's bangs from where they were plastered to her forehead.

"Did you see a fight?"

"Can't-can't get involved in fights." Mizune breathed wearily, her eyelids fluttering. "That's how you die."

"Was there a fight?" Blair asked, running her hand down the other woman's face, humming as she did so.

"Always fights. Fight over a girl"

"There was a fight over a girl?" Spirit asked, leaning forward as she talked. He wanted to put this conversation off, wanted to demand Blair to take her friend to the hospital, but this wasn't the first time he'd found them like this, and they'd refuse, just like they always did, and wait it out in the basement of the church, with the other prostitutes that had enough sense to hide out the late night in the safety of Justin's church and not on the streets.

"Girl. Maybe? Or boy? They fought, and one boy died."

"What about the other fighter, what happened to him?"

"He was a she. Or maybe he was a he? He walked away. He's old."

"He was old?"

"No. he's old. Old news, old body, young face." Mizune shook her head, her eyes focusing on something behind them. "He's got two hearts in one body, he's terrifying. Our hair is kinda similar though. He's cute." The tiny woman leaned forward to give her standing to deal with a hacking cough that racked her small frame, her body curling into itself more and more. Blair's distressed noise was muffled by the choking of her friend, and the annoyed growling of the other hookers in the basement.

"Zu!? Are you okay!? Zu?!" Blair screamed, grabbing ahold of her friend. Spirit pulled Blair away as the pink haired girl started convulsing. He took the leather bracelet off of her wrist, and held it in her mouth, waiting for her spasms to stop so he can help her. Blair was screaming through her tears behind him, but he offered the pretty girl with the purple hair no solace as her friend stopped flailing and settled into unconsciousness.

"There's no way around it Blair, she's got to go to the hospital."

"No! Bu-Tan didn't make enough last week to pay the hospital, and eat!" The young woman tugged on her bangs, stress coating over the young face.

"If she doesn't…she's going to die."

Blair's eyes welled up with tears, but she only nodded. "Okay, okay! Just help Zu, please!"

Spirit pulled out his phone, and plugging in 911, explaining the situation briefly into his phone, before slamming it shut, and placing his hand on the scared hooker's shoulder. "It'll be okay Blair, it'll be okay."

"I can't pay, I can't pay."

"It'll be okay."

* * *

Soul wakes up shaking.

What he couldn't figure out, is why he was shaking. With a groggy lift of his head, he squints around the hospital room, trying to identify what exactly woke him up. Finally, he pinpointed the source of the disturbance, a vibrating cell phone.

Maka's vibrating cellphone.

Maka's vibrating cellphone, which is in Maka's hand.

Hand is connected to her body.

Which is pressed against his and his arm thrown across it.

_Oh fuck_.

He doesn't react though, because if he freaked her out, she'd probably fly off the bed, which would result in a very awkward situation, and she would possibly move him if she just jumped away, which might cause him to become reacquainted with the plastic bucket Stein kept situated by his bedside. He moved his forehead from her shoulder, and looked up at her. She watched her phone ring for a second, before she looked at him, and a shy smile spread across her face. "Sleeping Beauty lives."

"Ain't no kiss required neither." He slurred before he could really catch himself. Maka only snorted, before turning her attention back to her phone, which buzzed a final time letting her know that she had a voicemail. "Why didn't you just answer?"

"My dad? I never answer when it's my dad. We'll fight too much then." She explained, unlocking her phone. "But if he leaves a voicemail, and I call back and leave a voicemail, we get more things done. Just the facts this way."

"Healthy."

"It used to be Sticky Notes, but that got too hard to deal with after a while." Maka shrugged, before holding her phone up to her ear, and closing her eyes to listen. Soul was kind of surprised she hadn't shoved him away yet. But then again, looking at the arm that was still around her waist, even though he was awake, he wondered if he was the one preventing her from getting away.

Her face went from passive to worried, and she sat up quickly, knocking his arm from where it had been, telling him that whatever she listened to had seriously rocked her, because she'd been treating him like he'd been made of glass ever since he got hurt. It also told him that she could've gotten out of his grip whenever she wanted. She brought the phone down with a scowl, and hopped off the bed, pulling on her shoes. "Damn it."

"What happened?"

"My dad'll be here in a minute or two. Some OD he came across, probably more of his prostitute friends."

Sure enough, the Commissioner was in his doorway not ten minutes later. Soul's boss looked frazzled, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were shadowed. Maka's mask of annoyance melted when she took in her father's face, and she walked over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Papa, you alright?"

"Yes Sweetheart," he sighed, placing his hand on her head. "Just, a rough day, that's all."

"Is the OD okay?" Soul asked, pushing himself up on one arm slowly.

"…I'm afraid they lost her." Spirit rubbed a hand across his face, and shook his head. Soul's face looked pale.

"P-papa Albarn?" A sniveling voice mumbled from outside Soul's room. The snow haired man picked his head up, and strained to hear the voice. "They….they wanna t-talk to you."

Spirit offered the face outside a small smile. "Just one second, Blair, okay?"

"Blair!?" Soul blurted the name before he could stop himself, disbelief warring with the idea that it might actually be her. Slowly, the tall woman with purple hair walked into his room, her golden eyes mirroring the shock in his eyes. She looked different, thinner, her face not as filled as it should be. Her clothes were almost nonexistent, hardly normal for her, but they looked worn, older. "Jesus Blair!"

"Baby!" She cried, her eyes wide. She leaped over to Soul, and threw her arms around her neck. "Why are you here?! What happened?! I thought you were dead!"

Soul wrapped one of his arms around her, his hand resting on the back of her head. "Hey, I'm fine. You really think a few Pit fight soldiers could take me down? Not even."

"But…everyone said…"

"Come on Blair, some faith? Please?" Soul rolled his eyes, as the taller woman pulled away, a sad smile on her face.

"You're okay!"

"I'm always okay Blair, you know that." He scoffed as she stood next to his bed. Behind her, his eyes fell on Maka's who looked incredibly confused, and Spirit, who looked incredibly annoyed by the attention his employee was getting from the woman he'd brought in. Blair followed Soul's line of sight to the other people in the room, and she only had to look at Maka's face for a second, before she gasped.

"You're Spirit's daughter?! You're so pretty!" Her smile was bubbly, and Maka blushed, unexpected praise was not what she had expected from the woman.

"T-thank you." Maka stammered, small smile on her face. Blair only grinned back again.

"I like your hair!"

"Wait a second," Spirit interrupted, "You know him?"

"Yup! Bu-Tan works by where Baby fights!" Blair explained, and Soul shook his head.

"No don't-"

"Shhh, Baby. Bu-Tan is talking." Blair pressed her hand to Soul's mouth, and his protests were muffled against her smooth palm. "Baby got the shit kicked out of him about six months ago. Remember?" She looked at Soul, who somehow managed to scowl without them having view of his mouth. "Anyways, he wasn't looking so good, so I took him back to my apartment, and fixed him up. He stayed sleeping for two days. I thought he was gonna die." Soul muttered again under her palm, but he was ignored. "But he woke up, and flipped out, tried to leave immediately, but he could barely walk. So he stayed for a couple weeks. It was fun." Blair grinned, but Soul's face fell, his eyes hard. He finally lifted up his hand and pulled Blair's from his mouth.

"What are you doing in the hospital?" He questioned the girl, and her face fell, the mask of happiness crumbling away as easily as it had been built up.

"Zu…Zu…she…" The purple haired woman sniffed, and Maka felt her father's hand push her toward the door. She wanted to resist, didn't want to leave Soul with the beautiful hooker, who had apparently saved his life. But, she went with her father, to sit in the waiting room while he talked to the doctors.

Six months ago, she could remember the fight Blair was talking about. Eater had been up against a man, who went by Al Capone and their fight had been brutal. The floor of that old gymnasium had been slickened with the two men's blood, Capone's mask had even been fractured, part of his face showing. That was dangerous in the Pits, but the two men had kept going, the violence increasing until Eater had finally gotten his arm around Capone's neck, and squeezed, until the violent man stopped moving, and Eater had limped off as the victor.

Eater had been hurt.

Eater was Soul.

He mind still refused to make that connection. She didn't want to think about how Eater was beaten down every single weekend, and put Soul under that mask. She didn't want to think about how he'd probably spent a lot of his time tending his own wounds, because there wasn't anyone else to help him. She didn't want to think about how easy it was to forget the fighters were human with they had their masks on.

Every single injury Eater had received, was catalogued somewhere on Soul's body.

She clenched her fists, and decided right then and there, that Soul wouldn't get hurt needlessly like that again. She'd break his fucking addiction to the Pits if she had to tie him down to do it.

She wasn't going to let her fighter get hurt again.

* * *

"Blair, what happened to Mizune?" Soul asked, pushing himself up on the bed, into a sitting position, ignoring the screaming of his chest as he bent the skin slit by the scar so he could at least look like the man Blair had known.

Blair's eyes welled with tears, and she pushed the ones that escaped away with her palm. "She overdosed. She…they found this new powder that's being peddled in, and Mizune got to try some last night. She looked so happy, and nothing went wrong last night, she was fine, but when she took it again tonight…" Blair looked away, her eyes dulled. "She died."

"Are you back on that shit too?" He hissed, and Blair flushed.

"Only once or twice a month."

"Goddamn it Blair." Soul growled, and he ran his hand through his hair. "Goddamn it, you know better. Is that why you're so skinny? And why did Albarn know where your apartment is?"

"Bu-Tan lost the apartment…couldn't afford to keep it." She smiled through her tears. "I sleep in the basement at the church."

"Blair, why didn't you come find me?! You know I'd help you!"

"Everyone said you were dead!" Blair pouted, the sadness in her eyes real. "Everyone told me Baby was dead, because Baby didn't listen to the Kishin."

"Yeah, that does sound like me, doesn't it." He smirked and shook his head. "Come on Blair, I owe you. Why didn't you look?"

"Because, I had money, I did. But…now, I gotta pay for hospital stuff. Mizune didn't have any…-" The tears started up again, and Soul reached for the woman, pulling her back into his arms. She sobbed, and he felt like he could have stopped this. If he hadn't disobeyed that order, and just thrown the fight, she would've been able to find him, and he could've helped her.

Soul owed Blair, and he owed Blair a lot. She'd saved his life, and she'd spent a good chunk of her own money nursing him back to health. He wasn't the type to accept favors as favors. Blair had shown him kindness, and he owed her now.

"It's okay, Blair. It'll be okay." He promised. "Pay for the hospital, will you have enough after to make the week?"

"If I eat every other day, yeah."

He scowled. "Do that, then when I get out of here, I'll hit up the nearest Pit, okay? I'll get you your money back."

"Baby, you don't have to-"

"You saved me Blair, and you spent money to do so." He growled, and she stopped talking. "I've owed you, and I will pay you back. No matter what."

* * *

**Lol, face:**

**Ahh! I'm so glad you like it! I hope you enjoy the update!**

**ThatOneChickWhoWritesFanFic:**

**Good plan! In this story, Weapons and Meisters aren't exactly on great terms. Soul is pretty biased though, because he's a Weapon, and he doesn't like what happens to people like him. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Papaya-san: **

**Thanks for the review!**

**Penguin Mofo:**

**Oh, we'll see Crona again, no worries. He'll be back. Wait, you've had dreams about this?! Really?! Thanks for the review Mofo! Loved it!**

**Odat: **

**Nothing in the world rivals how much I need Dragon in my life. **

**No Joke.**

**THANK YOU FOR ALL THE HELP YOU'RE CONTINUALLY GIVING ME, AND FOR STAYING EVEN THOUGH YOU KNOW OF THE FEELS TO COME**

**Thanks for the reviews!**


	7. I Am Hell Bound

**Chapter Seven**

**I Am Hell Bound**

* * *

Stein had a large number of shady dealing under his belt.

Throughout his life, he strove for understanding. It was only way to insure that he would be able to completely understand those around him, as he lacked a certain amount of empathy, that had been replaced with two parts apathy. It had never actually bothered him until he'd made his first friend, almost twenty years ago, down in the Pits. Reaper, with his flaming hair, and annoyingly arrogant fighting style had been handed a new one, and Stein, uncharacteristically had helped him after that fight. He didn't have any other reason for helping the fighter, other than curiosity about what would happen if he did.

He hadn't realized he was going to end up with a friend.

Of course, once one relationship stemmed, others followed, and he had met Kami, the shorter, blonde woman with wide green eyes who'd take his eccentricities in stride, and offered him her friendship, along with the friendship of her fighter boyfriend.

Because of them, he'd been tied to Shibusen. He could still remember the shock he'd felt with the masked face of Lord Death seem to smile at him, and tell him he had a home among his ranks, should he want it. He aligned with Lord Death, with the Crime Lord's strange brand of purifying evil, because he felt like it was a point of view he hadn't ever considered. It was exhilarating, something that had thrown him into his work.

However, Stein was susceptible to the lure and appeal of the darkness, he always had been.

He'd been destroyed once he'd discovered darkness incarnate in Medusa Gorgan. She was of a scientific mind herself, and they'd found common ground in a desire for understanding, for power, and the comforting heat the darkness would wrap around their souls. She brought him deeper and deeper into her insanity, his layers of composure shedding away as easily as his clothes in her apartment, the darkness between them dwelling in dangerous levels. They were flying to fast, they had too much darkness between them to combine, yet they didn't walk away.

His mind was his gift, and he gave it to her, at her leisure. His understanding and danger were hers to control, and he began helping her. He did it all, switching out compounds, playing with the structures, testing potency, until they'd done it. They'd created 'Black Blood', a drug that had completely obliterated all before it. It was never intended for the use of an everyday junkie. It had to be saved, for the fights. Because even though Shibusen ran as much under the table as anyone else, with strip clubs, drug rings, gambling, but a large source of income for that particular syndicate came from the Arena. Stein and Medusa had created it to help those who could afford it get their fighters to the top.

The drug itself was shot up, similarly to heroin, but its effect was completely different. It was created to jack up the fighter with energy, heightened senses, and it made the effect of adrenaline feel like euphoria, making the brain want to produce more and more, keeping the fighter up and at peek longer. At first, Lord Death had been open to the idea, more concerned about the side effects than anything else.

As it turned out, the side effects were hell.

A fighter on the drug would excel, more powerful than they had ever been, but when they were faced with the come down they would break apart. Massive headaches, nausea, a pain that settled deep into the bones would plague the fighter, and the smaller the fighter, the worse the pain would be. When it seemed like the side effects wouldn't actually kill the fighters, they kept their experiment going, keeping the supply open to some fighters, and slowly tapping other fighters off the drug as they went.

The fighters that were kept on a steady stream of Black Blood showed some disturbing long term effects. There seemed to almost be a split in the mentality of the fighters. They would do things while high, and wouldn't remember doing them when they were sober. It wasn't just the hazy forgetfulness of being inebriated either; they honestly had no memory of their time when they were high. It progressed in some fighters to the extent of two completely detached personas inhabiting a single body.

The fighters who went through the withdrawal were even worse off. Few escaped with their lives, and even fewer with their sanity. Without the Black Blood, the body would shut down. A fever would spike that burned the hands of anyone who touched them, they would vomit until blood was expelled from their mouths, and they would tear at their skin, screaming about the demons that would come for them, poking their skin, scraping their nails over it. The bodies just weren't able to handle it, and they burnt out. It took an exceptional fighter to survive such a painful experience, not to mention walk away with their sanity.

Which is why it worried Stein that Medusa's name was literally too close to Eater's to make him comfortable.

He leaned back in the barstool, and observed the women dancing on the stage, twisting and gyrating to the deep bass. He stuck his finger in his drink, and placed it against his tongue, testing the flavor before he brought the glass to his lips, and took a deep swig, the changing colors dancing across the stitching on his skin while he waited for the woman to join him. He'd chosen Chupa's as their meeting place because it wasn't owned by either syndicate, therefore, was considered natural territory. Normally, he didn't worry about things like territories and the overlapping of the Families, but that had been before Medusa had joined with the Kishin, and had become their queen. She was the most feared member of the syndicate, and she was never going to let anyone forget that.

Finally, the air crackled with power, and a familiar pull of insanity, before Stein looked up from his drink to the door. Standing tall, no care in the world was Medusa, her golden eyes slowly scanning the club before resting on him, and a smile crossed her features. Beside her, a shorter woman with long mint colored hair, and the circular scarring of a shamed Kishin soldier surrounding the corners of her mouth, and a tall man, dressed in an old prison uniform with a tattoo above his obviously blinded eye. Medusa started toward him, and she sat herself down next to him, her entourage sitting in the closest booth there was. "Hello, Handsome."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." He promised, before looking over at her friends, who were shooting him glares from where they were sitting. "I didn't realize we were bringing friends."

"Oh, you know. I got a little more popular since I've seen you. I need to have some friends with me wherever I go."

"Oh, of course. I do wonder though, why is your group of choice a shamed Kishin Soldier, and a half blind man?"

"Ah, Eruka, as you can see, is paying for a great transgression against the Kishin."

"What did she do?"

Medusa's eyes cut to his, and flashed in the red lights that flew across the club. "She tried to kill me."

"Oh. And she's still breathing."

"She's mine now, she's marked as one of the Unforgiven, and she isn't about to continue along in her fights with that face." Medusa looked back at Eruka, and gave a massive grin, which the younger woman only ignored, and gave her order to the man at the booth for a drink. Stein watched the way the man moved, how he was constantly checking over his blind spot, how the dark spotting along his wrists looked familiar.

"That's her Weapon, then?" Stein asked. Medusa followed his train of sight at the burly man.

"Ah yes. Free."

"What is?"

"His name, silly. It's Free." Medusa rolled her eyes. "Well, at least that one is named Free. He's long since forgotten his real name." Her words stab him in the darkness, and he realized just what those dark spots were.

"How long has he been on?"

"Since he's been out of prison." The Queen answered him, ordering a drink before she returned her focus to him. "How long has it been since prisons around here have actually had black and white strips, huh?"

"Impossible, he should be burned through right now."

"That's the thing with formulas Handsome. They change." Medusa shook her head and looked over at him. "Losing you was the biggest setback of my career. It took much longer to modify without you."

"You know I didn't approve of it. The side effects were too cruel."

"They just needed to be tampered with."

"They haven't gotten any better."

"Well, that's what you think." Medusa huffed, and stuck up her nose. "I'll have you know that Free, while he might have killed the persona in him that wasn't a fighter, is perfectly stable, even if just a little violent." She shrugged, and accepted her drink from the bartender, taking a pull. "He's still considered one of my better experiments."

He needed to stop, he brought her here for a reason, and he needed to get back to that. Stein understood she was baiting him, dangling the obvious question in his way, and all he had to do was take it. "Not your best?"

"No, my best experiment was given to me by a man who gave me what you wouldn't."

"Oh. You got a man to give you a child?" Stein acted unimpressed, unsure of where she's taking this situation. Medusa only smiled over the rim of her glass and she shot her former lover a look from the corner of her eyes.

"He's such a good boy too. They both are."

Stein stared at the ice in his drink, his stomach dropping as he considers her words. "Only child?"

"Oh his mother never found it in her to have another. He's just so perfect."

"Both of them?"

"Well, one's pretty shy, not sure what I'm going to do with him. But the other is Mama's Little Angel. Does everything she asks him to do, and with a smile." Medusa spoke fondly, like a mother would a child, but Stein can only feel rage bubbling up in his bones.

He doesn't know much about children, doesn't know how to treat them. But he does know that he'd never seen Reaper so happy as the day Maka was born, and he knew that the look he saw in the man's eyes was known as love. A pure, incorruptible love that nothing would ever replace.

He saw none of that in Medusa's eyes.

"How did you stabilize two personalities?"

"I raised the inherent persona to be completely codependent. He can't do anything on his own. Then, once he seemed strong enough, I started shooting him up. He went crazy, as they all do, but the two personas solidified into a set hierarchy. The one created by all of his trips into the drug world, it's the dominate personality. They're, not to brag, the perfect fighter." She licked her lips before she turned all of her attention on the Mad Scientist. "But, I'm sure you didn't call me to talk about family life."

"No," Stein agreed. "I actually came to talk to you about a body that ended up in my morgue."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Stein tossed the balled up prescription written out to Eater onto the table, his face a mask of indifference. "Found this in the poor kid's pocket." He watched her face as she unfurled the crumpled, and now bloodstained, paper, and scanned her eyes over it. Anger flashed across her face for a mere second, before she turned back to him. She toyed with the edges of the paper, before putting her saccharine smile back on her face.

"Oh? In your morgue huh? What happened to him?"

"What are you doing working at a school so heavily influenced by Shibusen?"

"Kicks, of course. A girl's gotta have her fun." A snake-like smirk crossed her features. "But, I need a real job as a front, and if it just so happens to be the place where the little children of Reaper and Death go to, then so be it. Besides, I'm not stepping on any toes here."

"You would make such a stupid move at a place in Lord Death's pocket?"

"The state paid for that school, even if he did throw in a gym or library. If my credentials pass, and they do, and I'm the best candidate for the job, why shouldn't I work there?"

"You're playing a dangerous game, Medusa." Stein warned, motioning for the bartender to refill his drink. "You have to know that."

"That man is just angry that he didn't step up to accept my drug when it was new. The Kishin saw a good opportunity, and he took it. Besides, it's not like that man can say he's any better. His fighters are just as hopped up as ours. There's no being 'clean' in the Arena. All we have between us is a sour business transaction that ended up working better for me anyways."

"And that's why you put a hit out on this Shibusen kid?" Stein asked, tossing his head in the direction of the note. Medusa shook her head in response.

"He's not Shibusen. He's a piece of shit pit fighter, who got lucky against Rasputin and cost the bidders quite a bit. He had to be punished for that." Medusa rolled her eyes. "Then he disappears, comes back and kills Jack the Ripper. It was only dumb luck I found him at the school. I guess he's the Albarn Crime Princess' lapdog."

"He was the lap dog." Stein corrected, and Medusa lifted a brow.

"Oh yes, that's right. He showed up at your morgue. Tell me, what took him down?"

"Oh, I would have to say, among other lacerations, it was the massive cut that ripped open his torso."

"Don't act like it wasn't fun to clean up."

"I'm not saying it wasn't." Stein answered honestly. "But it just seemed a little brutal for some unknown Pit fighter."

"Yes well, sometimes, there needs to be an example made. And it just so happened that Soul 'Eater' Evans was a prime subject. You understand. The kid just drew a bad hand." A shrug graced her shoulders. "He was just a pit fighter. It's neither here nor there."

"Right, neither here nor there." Stein agreed as another drink was placed in front of him.

This was going to become a problem. He knew that look in her eyes, ambition, a power trip, she was planning something terrible, and right now, these steps she was taking would be enough to construe exactly what the woman was planning.

But…from where he was sitting, the attack on Eater had been completely unrelated to Maka's standing as Shibusen Princess. He was missing something, something incredibly obvious. Oh well, he'd have time to figure it out. Assuming she had a mole in Shibusen (which he was sure she did), and her mole in Shibusen was doing a half assed job, and even if they were, it would be some time before Medusa realized that Eater was still alive. After all, the boy had seemed pretty smart; he obviously didn't throw around his fight name like some had been known to do. Soul could keep the news of his corporeal return quite hush and shush, as long as he stopped going to school.

Which he could do, and Maka could still remain safe. After all, Death the Kidd attended that school, and the protection that had been snuck in along with that gym and library, and her own personal relationship with Kidd, she'd be just fine. If they could be trusted to keep this ruse up long enough, Medusa would have to show her hand.

Eater and Maka weren't unrelated, and Stein only needed to figure out what exactly was bonding the two more than Wonderland and hastily stitched scars.

* * *

Stein may have had a point, Soul did drool a lot when he was sedated.

Spirit sighed as he found himself back in the young fighter's hospital room. The albino had an arm curled under his head, and while he was still favoring sleeping on his side, the bandages had been removed from his body, leaving the angry red skin of what would soon be a very thick scar across his body. Soul had no worries of these things, however, the boy was so incredibly sedated that he didn't even flinch when Spirit walked in, something the younger fighter would have picked up on quickly. The only sign Eater was even alive was the impressive stream of liquid cascading from his mouth.

Yeah, it was definitely the teeth.

Well, if Soul was this out, he was going to have absolutely no chance of finding out where Blair ran off to after she had finished speaking to Soul. He'd already gone and checked the church, but there was no sign of Blair, and Justin had explained he hadn't seen her since she'd left with him a few nights back, when they'd taken Mizune to the hospital. Dragging a hand over his face, the retired champion took a deep breath. He'd just have to come back later, maybe when the nurses realized the sheer amount of drugs that were being pumped into the boy's system. He was going to need the kid's help. Blair was the only one who knew where Mizune got the bad powder, and she had a two day head start on him.

Spirit had turned to leave, when he saw the boots shoved under Soul's bed, and tiredly placed them as the boots he'd gotten his daughter for her last birthday. Looking around, he didn't see hide or hair of Maka, and wondered exactly where she could be. It was almost ten in the morning, and he couldn't recall if his daughter had an early class or not. Behind him, he heard the shuffling of the paper slippers that the hospital gave to their patients, and looked behind them. Here he found his daughter, in her usual get up of skirt, tights, and a button up over some tank top. Her eyes were bleary, and her still regretfully black hair was pulled into its pigtails. She stared at him tiredly, trying to place him, before it hit her. "Oh! Morning Papa."

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't have a class until two. So I figured I'd check on Soul."

"…What's with the shoes?"

"Nurses don't want me trekking around in my boots. Something about scuff marks and a picky janitor? I don't know." Maka yawned, and shuffled into the room with him, heading for the plastic chair by the side of his bed.

"You know sweetie, you can go home and get some sleep. He's out."

"No he's not." Maka snorted, and looked over at the hired hand. "If he was actually out, he'd be drooling more. And he wouldn't be sleeping on his hand. It would bug him too much when he woke up. Watch, give it…ten…maybe fifteen minutes and he'll be up and bitching about how hungry he is."

Spirit could only stare at his daughter, and the certainty in her voice. He'd forgotten sometimes, how very much like her mother she was. Maka could read people, much better than most, and she was incredibly perceptive. She could see patterns in chaos and the unconsciously memorize the sleeping habits of a man she really hadn't known that long. She had never said much about it, and Spirit didn't like to bring it up, it was just another way his ex-wife had driven him and his daughter farther apart, but she had her mother's same skill of perception, and she apparently had honed in on how to use it. Her obvious skill had taken him by such surprise; he didn't even remember to reprimand her about the swearing. "Impressive."

"Not really, I've been here a week. I just picked up what I've seen." Maka sighed, and looked over at her father. "Nurses were talking about letting him go soon."

"Oh yeah? Well, he is healing up a little better. Still might take another few weeks to scar over. End of the month, it should at least be healed up enough for him to act normal. Whatever normal is for him."

Maka nodded and bit the inside of her lip. "Have you found the attacker yet?"

"No." He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Our closest trail was Mizune."

"And they buried her yesterday." Maka finished his thought, and sighed. "I don't get it. The kid didn't have any signifiers of a syndicate. Was it random?"

"Nothing's random in this city, Maka."

"This seems to be." She argued, crossing her arms over her chest. "We weren't in a territory that didn't belong to us, we weren't enticing a fight. We were just walking, it was quiet. And this guy comes out of nowhere." Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip as she thought about it. "It wasn't like he was going straight for Soul, but it also wasn't like he didn't go for me either. I've never had an attempt on my life go like that. What if they were after him?" She finished up, and Spirit frowned.

"Why would they be after him?"

"Weren't you the one who told me he pissed off the Kishin? Papa, he's already more than proved his worth as a guardian. You need to talk to Lord Death, look into getting him Marked."

Her request surprised Spirit, and it took him a while to articulate an answer. "You really think so, huh?"

"He stood in front of death for me." Her voice was soft, but the determination in her eyes hard. "The least I can do is offer some back up, if he wants it. He gets Marked, and should anyone do this again, it'll be grounds for a war."

"Are you sure about this?" Spirit questioned again, curious to see how well his daughter understood the politics behind her request. He wanted Maka to be stronger than Shibusen, he wanted her to live somewhere else, and not be dragged into this family, but he had lately understood that he couldn't keep her out of it. One day, she's replace her father as the right hand of this family, and they'd both accepted that fact. Especially with Kidd taking over some day, there was no way for Maka to get out. Not now.

"Soul has thrown his life down to prevent the loss of mine. On that stance alone, Shibusen owes him a great deal, wouldn't you say?" Her eyebrow cocked up and Spirit nodded.

"Oh of course, not even speaking as your father, you know Lord Death looks at you as another child, and he is already more than pleased with what this fighter has done for you."

"But?"

"But he's still reckless, still a little too much in the mentality of the Pits. If we can figure out how to break him of that, then Lord Death will be able to trust him unreservedly, but a kid with as much desire to fight as he has, he could be dangerous until then."

Maka's mouth was set in a grim line, her eyes on the boy in the bed. "You said 'we'."

"Sorry?"

"You said if 'we' can figure out how to help him." Her eyes went from the fighter to the champion, and she gave a small smile. "You'd help? You won't even let me go to the store alone because you don't trust any male. Ever."

"I already told you, I see a lot of me in this kid, and I could have had a devilishly handsome stranger come into my life and offer me a job that would allow me to walk away from that life, I would have ended up a much better man." Spirit explained, shoving his hands in his pockets. Maka nodded at that, playing with the ends of her hair.

"You've killed a lot of people, haven't you?" Her voice isn't hard, or judgmental, or even angry, it's only curious.

"Yes."

"Papa…how do you break someone away from that?" Her teeth were scraping against her lip again. "You can see it when you look at him, all he knows is the Pit…but…when I look at you, I don't see it. I don't get it."

"Ah, that's an easy one Sweetheart. I'll leave you to figure it out." Spirit smiled, walked over to his daughter, pressing a kiss against her forehead. "Go to class."

"I always go to class." Maka mumbled, turning back towards the boy, who jerked once, and shot his head up, line of drool abruptly ending as he looked around, red eyes hazed with sleep.

"'S'ere any food 'round here?" He slurred, and Maka just looked up at her father and smirked.

Yeah, more and more like Kami every day, that one.

* * *

Soul didn't trust Patchy's smile, and the way the man had all too easily agreed to let him check out.

Something had been off with the man since he had come into check on him, and Soul had bitched about getting out, like he had been bitching about since the first day he woke up, but this time, Patchy had only stared at him long and hard, and agreed it would be for the best.

Every instinct he had was going off in his head, something was wrong, that much was obvious, but now…Soul couldn't really place what it was. He just watched as the doctor spent an ungodly amount of time poking along his still healing gash, pressing extra hard in the places that made Soul hiss in pain. "You seem to be healing alright."

"Seriously, a license. Can I see it?" Soul spat angrily, before pulling himself into a sitting position, shoulders slumping in on themselves.

"Sure. Walk with me down to the morgue, I'd be happy to show you."

"You-wait-no way-what?!" Real, genuine fear was on his face, now, and he was pretty sure the blood had drained from his face completely. "Fuck no, seriously?"

"So yes, I am an 'actual' doctor."

"YOU PLAY WITH DEAD PEOPLE!"

"And you send them to me." Stein countered, and Soul flinched. Fair enough point. He actually never really stuck around long enough after a fight to see what they did with the bodies. He just collected his winnings and left, trying to spend as little time there as possible. So…actually the chances of this crazy man getting some of his handiwork weren't that far off.

"Whatever."

"You can't do it again, you realize that right?" Stein had met Soul's eyes, and the younger man scowled.

"I know that, I'm not stupid."

"I'm serious. You come back from the dead enough times, and the Kishin will stop playing games, and strike you down in broad daylight. You do that, you'll be putting Maka, and all of her friends and family at risk too. Like it or not, you're officially a gateway to the second most powerful family in Shibusen, and you can't be hanging around the Pits anymore."

Soul was silent, tugging on the tape that held in his IV. "Why would I go back?"

"That's my question. I'm more curious about the several answers you've already got for that question in the back of your head. You can't do this anymore. Let Eater die, he's had his run." Stein sighed, and readjusted his glasses before looking back at the scowling kid. "To let the sleeping dogs lie is no sign of weakness."

The fighter only snorted before he ran a hand across his face. "You think they're sleeping? There's no way. They're up, and jumping at the bits for a chance to rip into me. How do I know they won't come for me if I _don't_ go back to the Pit?"

"And the excuses start." Stein gave him a pointed look, and Soul only looked away, grumbling. "They think you're dead. Take this gift, and say out of the Pits."

"…How would you know that?"

"Spirit trusts me, what does that tell you about me?"

"That you've earned your place among the ranks, I've never doubted that."

"So, can I ask you to trust me when I say that they're convinced you're dead, and you need to trust me on that?"

Soul weighed his options carefully. Spirit did trust Patchy, and apparently, by extension, Lord Death did as well. Whatever insight this bastard had into the Kishin family was probably enough to honestly tell him that they thought he was dead. And if that were true, then he really did have an excuse to walk away from the Pits, for good.

_Okay okay! Bu-Tan will skip meals this week; if Baby is absolutely sure he wants to fight again…Bu-Tan could always just work the Dark District_

No, there was no way he could let Blair make up the money lost by working the Dark District. The money there would be high, wads of cashed thrown at a girl like her. But she'd come back covered in blood and bruises. He'd only seen her like that once, and she hadn't said a word to him, she'd only gone into her bathroom and cried while the shower had poured over her head. After that, he'd decided then and there that Blair would never have to go back to the Dark District.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Go back on one path, and it immediately fucked the person on the other path over. This wasn't fair, he was just trying to do what was right here, but no matter what, someone got fucked. He shook his head, realizing that it came down to Blair and Maka, and his loyalty stretched between them. He couldn't win. Of course he couldn't, the Pits weren't set up to win, they were only set up to survive.

"Okay." He finally answered the doctor, and sighed, head pounding as the red man sensed his struggle, and woke up. "Okay, I'll listen. I'll trust you." He held his hands up in surrender. "I won't do anything to fuck anyone up."

"You have to understand how important it is that you never go back to the Pits. Or even the school for a little while, stay hidden."

"…That makes protecting Maka a little difficult, wouldn't you say?"

"She's safe at the school. If you insist, walk her there, walk her back, but don't go where they might have seen you with her before. Do not stay there, alright?"

"Alright, alright fine." Soul agreed, and rubbed his eye. "I'll follow the rules okay."

"I mean it Eater."

"I won't hurt Maka." Soul frowned, eyes locking on Patchy's. "You have to know that. There is no way I'm going to hurt Maka, and if keeping her safe means doing everything you're saying, then fine. I'll do it all."

Stein leaned back in his chair, and smiled, pulling a paper cigarette out of his pocket, and tossing it to Soul. The scarred fighter grabbed it, and brought it up to his nose, a small smile on his face. "Awh, for me?"

"Just do what you have to, keep her safe."

"Ah, you know I will." Soul shrugged, sliding the joint behind his ear. Stein only nodded, before looking up to the door, a few seconds before Soul did, and Maka walked into the doorway, spinning a set of keys on her pointer finger.

"You ready to go?"

"Please, save me from this hell."

* * *

Black*Star apparently was quite persuasive.

At least, that's the most polite word Maka could use to describe the blue haired ball of energy as she followed Soul down the hall to his room, making sure he got there just fine. He'd been out of the hospital twenty minutes, and he was already sick of his new little shadow, promising he was fine. Maka still followed him though, and it somewhat reminded Soul of how his mother used to follow him and his brother around, making sure they didn't get into anything they shouldn't.

The thought made him angrier.

Finally, once he was in the room Spirit had given him, empty except for an old duffle bag, and some dark blue sheets that adorned the guest bed, which Maka immediately crawled too the foot of, and sat there, watching as he threw the pills Stein had given him on the dresser, and leaned against the wall, staring at his charge. "Do I have to?"

"Well, please?" She grinned up at him, her smile making her eyes brighter. "He was pumped to hear you were getting out of the hospital, and convinced Kidd to throw a party."

"Yeah…but why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" Maka rolled her eyes. "Because, we're you're friends, and we're glad you're okay, and if Black*Star is involved, then he's planning on getting you shitfaced tonight."

"Swearing just doesn't sound right coming out of your mouth."

"Oh, sign language better?" She made a face, and lifted her middle finger at him.

"Hey, as long as you ain't talkin'…"

"I'll kill you."

"Would hardly be a good kill." Soul snorted, and gestured to his front. "I've gone and done most of the work for you." She smiled, but he saw the guilt flash across her face for a second, and he felt worse than he already did. "Oi. I'll go to your little shindig. But you have to do me a favor first."

"Sure?"

"I'm bone tired, and I wanna pass out on sheets that don't smell like hospital. So go get the freakin' Wonderland book, and get back here, alright?" Maka only blushed but she did leave the room, giving Soul the opportunity to ease himself down onto the bed, without irritating his torso. His back had healed a little but still stung when he tried to lay on it, so by the time Maka returned, he was back on his side, body curling into himself. She frowned when she took in his appearance, and set the glass of water on the dresser next to the pills.

"I don't think you should be out yet."

"And I disagree with that statement wholeheartedly." His voice was muffled from shoving it into a pillow that didn't smell like hospital; rather it smelt like laundry detergent, and a linen closet, and a faint trace of Maka's smell that just reminded him of the color pink.

"There's no point in taking you out early if you're just going to end up back there."

"It's like you have no faith in me."

"Of course I have faith in you." Maka answered, no sarcasm in her voice, and Soul freed enough of his face from the paradise of scent to look up at her. She had a red tint to her face, her arms crossed behind her back. "I've been betting on you for about a year now, it's not like that's gonna change because you're cuddling a pillow to avoid taking your medicine."

"I ain't cuddling!" he argued, pulling his face from the pillow. "And you ain't my mom; don't tell me what to do." His charge only scoffed at him, before she motioned for him to scoot over. Knowing full well she meant his feet this time, Soul pushed his body over, making room for her next to him. Maka blinked at him once, before she took her spot from a few days ago, tucked against his body, his forehead against her shoulder, and his arm around her waist.

"Where were we?"

"Hookah Caterpillar." Soul released a massive yawn, showcasing all of his strangely shaped teeth before he settled back into the pillow while Maka flipped through the pages in the book, using the artwork penned there to figure out exactly what Soul was talking about.

"This book is so weird."

Soul only scoffed, before his eyelids started drooping, and (he'd deny this later) nuzzling his head into Maka's arm. She grinned behind the pages, and found the start of the chapter, where Alice was conversing with a rather snarky Caterpillar, with a hookah hose in its mouth who seemed to know better than she did about what was going on, but wouldn't clue Alice in.

Maka didn't understand the appeal to this book, she really didn't. None of it made sense, and it wasn't for little Alice's lack of trying, the little girl was trying just as hard as Maka to piece together exactly what was happening, but none of the people she ran into were trying to help her. They just sent her around in circles, and Maka was finding the whole thing quite frustrating.

But, when she was reading was really the only time she got to see Soul curled up like a little kid against her, his mouth open slightly, and the distinguishing line of drool already starting at the corner of his mouth. It was endearing, even if it was also slightly gross. It did seem to work for him, though, and the way he twitched in his sleep was something she hadn't noticed when he had been too sedated to move. Now that he was off the drugs, he was a much lighter sleeper, and every twitch she made, he responded to. So, once the chapter was finished, and she didn't receive any half away orders to keep going, she simply marked their spot, set the book down, and sunk deeper into his bed, and his arm tightened his grip more, before she thanked Lord Death for keeping her father working late, because this…this was surprisingly comfortable.

* * *

Apparently, they partied underground.

Soul stood next to Maka as she gripped his hand, and pulled him across the massive, meticulously landscaped yard of Lord Death himself, to the guesthouse that was on the other side of the property. "Why are we going underground?"

"Because Liz and Patti have a massive basement, and it's just the easiest place." Maka explained as she looked back at him. "You okay with underground?"

"Yeah, 's fine." He shrugged, and swallowed the panic that came with the idea of underground. Most of the holdings in the Arenas had been underground, and after a year of that, most fighters get pretty claustrophobic. Panic settling in because they're in the room, surrounded by other Weapons, and knowing that someone is there is going to be your opponent, and you're going to have to kill or be killed. Soul shook his head, clearing it. It was just a basement. He'd be fine.

Maka gave him another look under her fringe of black bangs, and tilted her head. Her hair was loose, and fluttering by her shoulders. Her tank top was bright pink, and covered by a sheer black button up. Her black skirt strained against the pale skin of her long legs that ended in her faithful boots. Not that he'd been looking…he just liked to know he had a handle on what his charge looked like so he could keep an eye on her.

He had just pulled on a black shirt with a clean pair of jeans, and called it good. Maka had given him a good once over before the left and she had deemed him acceptable. Now, they stood at an old cellar door on the side of an extravagant guest house as Maka pulled the door up. Inside was already hazy with smoke, and the laughter of their friends. They had been a little late, because Maka had ended up falling asleep curled up against Soul, but luckily had woken up before he did, and she set them both off to get ready.

Maka bounded down the stairs, still holding Soul's hand as they reached the bottom of the steps.

"SOUL!" Black*Star flew from where he had been sitting next to Tsubaki on a massively plush couch. Soul notices that plush furniture and pillows were everywhere. And to his surprise, there were two hookahs set up. Kidd waved at him from where he was situated next to a large black hookah, his two body guards on either side. He pulled the hose from his mouth and smiled, smoke welcoming Soul just as much as the man was. Liz and Patty both offered a wave too as they grabbed their own hoses, and starting copying their charge by inhaling.

Black*Star held out his palm, and Soul grabbed it, and threw his arm around the other in a manly display of affection. Maka rolled her eyes at the display, and Black*Star reached over and flicked her. "Nice job, Nerd. Took good care of my stooge here."

"Oi!"

"Nerd!?"

"Ugh, you two. Much too sober!" Soul noticed then that his friend's face was well beyond flushed, and he swayed as he stood. "Patti! You, me and Soul! Drinking contest!"

Patti squealed, and threw her arms in the air, grabbing a bottle from the top of a piano in the corner, and rushing over to them. The bottle in her hand was deep amber, and Soul knew it was Southern Comfort before he even saw that bottle. He was fucked, hardcore. Maka had already snorted, and was heading over to Tsubaki, who was already getting up to help mix Maka a drink. For all he could tell, this place was as safe as a fortress.

So why not relax?

* * *

"Tha's…tha's 22 fer me."

"Ya fuckin' idiot." Soul rolled his eyes, hands trying desperately to somehow bring the lighter in his hand to the joint resting in his mouth. Around him, he watched as Maka drunkenly tried to explain to kid why he should recite 'Old Father William', and the son of the crime lord only laughed at her logic, and tried to maneuver his drink into his mouth, without losing his hookah hose. Tsubaki and Liz had their arms around each other's shoulders, and they sang to the Moulin Rouge song that was blaring over the speakers. "Ya didn' take 22 fuckin' shots."

"A'least I can still work a fuckin' lighter!" Black*Star snorted, laughing at his friend struggled with flicking the damn flame to life."

"I can do it." He mumbled around the weed, and Patti snorted and threw back another shot. The youngest of all of them, and she held her liquor the best. Soul had made it seven shots before his world had started tipping on its axis, and he was unable to move. He blearily wondered if he should've checked his medicine about taking with alcohol, but from the way he was spinning, he assumed he got his answer.

Patti rolled her eyes, and snatched the lighter from him, and deftly lit it before holding it against the paper, and he inhaled, the heated smoke instantly filling his mouth, and he closed his eyes in euphoria, the taste alone giving him a sense of peace. He released the smoke and passed the joint to Black*Star, who ripped a hit, and tried to pass it to Patti, but she just shook her head, and took the mostly empty bottle of SoCo with her.

_Good fucking riddance._

"Oi. Soul. You okay?" Black*Star asked, and Soul shrugged, sucking on the green again.

"'M fine."

"Had worse?"

"…Not particularly no…" He smirked and shook his head. "'M fine though."

"How long you out on the fights?"

"Oh, I don't know. Tomorrow?"

"What?!" Black*Star spat out his smoke and stared at his friend, shock on his flushed faces. "Are you crazy?"

"Nah. I got a friend. Owe her. Big. Like, owe her my life big. She needs some money."

"And you think yer ready for the Pits?"

"Fuck no," Soul shook his head. "Ain't gonn' be Pit ready for a while. But some outside street fight? Yeah, tha'll be no problem."

"'S a fuckin' bad idea dude."

"Yeah, I know." Soul smiled and inhaled again, his head feeling as hazy as the smoke that passed between his teeth. "But, gotta do what I gotta do." The fighter looked over the blue hair of his friend, and smirked. "Looks like yer girl might be ready to puke."

"Wha!?" Black*Star looked behind him, and sure enough, Tsubaki didn't look so good. Liz was holding her up and Black*Star sighed, getting up to help his pretty charge. Between Liz and him, they managed to drag her to the bathroom. Soul laughed at the spectacle, taking back his dragonesque features as the smoke roiled out of his mouth as he did so.

"Hey! Guard Puppy!" Looking behind him, Maka had ended up by herself next to one of the hookahs by the piano, Kidd and Patti now trying to make a card house at the table. "Com're."

Soul scoffed, and stubbed out his smoke on an ashtray and forced his shaky body down beside Maka. His head spun as his center of gravity changed, and he exhaled slowly, not really sure if he could get up again. Maka reached for his hand and tugged on it, her face dusted with a red flush. "Hookah, I wanna do hookah."

"Wha'chu need me for?"

"My hands aren't working." She pouted. "Com'n Guard Puppy. Make the thing. Do the thing! Fuck, I don't even know." She growled into the air, and Soul snorted. While she figured out what she wanted, he wasn't going to waste time. He placed the hose in his mouth, and sucked up smoke that tasted like watermelon and mango, and swallowed, holding the smoke in his lungs. The injured look on her face that followed watching him steal her hit made him want to laugh, while simultaneously breaking his heart. He reached for her face, and brought it closer to his. Her mouth opened, and her lips grazed his, and he nearly lost the vapor held captive in his mouth.

Finally, he opened his, and pressed their mouths together to create a seal. She inhaled, stealing the breath from his lungs, and he gripped her hair. It wasn't a kiss, it was shotgunning, and his world was spinning so fast, he needed something to grasp onto. She pulled away and exhaled, her head rushing beyond believe, and the slight scrape on the side of her lip from one of his teeth stinging. The smoke drifted between the two of them, and she grinned. "Good Puppy."

"Ya know I'm not actually a dog, right?"

"Tha's not important right now, what's important is tha' the smoke is in the hose, and not in my mouth." Her finger drunkenly trailed from the hookah, to her face. "Comprendo?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good." She affirmed, and took her own hit, Soul's lips only inches from hers. She took a pull, feeling the vapor dance down her throat before she dropped the hose, and closed the distance between her and her Guard Puppy. He opened his mouth to hers, and inhaled. She remembered his teeth and she poked her tongue out just a little, just graze the edge of one of his teeth. He froze and she pulled away, her face completely indifferent as she watch him exhale. His eyes are glazed, and he's staring at her intently, not entirely sure if he imagined what happened or not. She only smiled wide and him, and giggled, reaching for the hose again. He listened to her inhale, and closed his eyes to wait for her again, but this time, it isn't smoke that snuck past his lips, it's his charge's tongue.

He knew he should probably do something about it, but _fuck_ she tasted like mango smoke and vanilla vodka, and the hand he had gripping her hair only tightened. She leaned forward, pushing him back slightly, and Soul fell backwards, remembering too late about the piano bench.

His head meets it with a crack, and he snorts as he lies on the floor. Maka hovered over him, worry in those wide green eyes. "'Re you okay?!"

"Psh." He snorted. ""S only a piano bench. Pianos won't hurt me." Maka looks from him, to the piano bench, and he can see the moment the idea reached her brain. She crawled over him, and squirmed under the bench. "Th' fuck're you doin'?"

"If we can't see them, they can't see us."

"Not sure tha's how tha' works."

Her green eyes rolled slowly. "Jus' get under the thing."

Soul wants to shake his head, but instead he finds himself crawling under there with her, supporting himself on his side. He met her eyes again, and she held his eyes for a second, keeping her gaze on his. Slowly, she placed her hand on his face, and leaned towards him. Their lips met without the pretense of smoke this time, her tongue tracing his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth, that same tongue from earlier coming to rest against one of his teeth, testing it herself to see if it was real. His hand came to rest in her hair again as he pushed closer to her, his hand settling in the loose silk of her hair.

Her hand made its way to the front of his shirt, her fingers light and hesitant. He pulled his mouth from hers, and pressed their foreheads together, and she slowly trailed her fingers down until she heard him hiss, and she went to pull her hand away. He grabbed it before she could retract completely, and just held it there. She laced her fingers with his, and he brought their hands between them. He leaned back a little more, leaving room on the arm that was supporting his head for her to put hers too. She welcomed the offer, and moved closer to him. Her world was spinning, and her head felt fuzzy. "I'm sorry." Even her whispers were slurred, and he had to force an eye open to see if she had actually spoken.

"Wha'fer?"

"You gettin' hurt."

"Don't be."

"But-"

"_Don't be._"

"Fine, I'm sorry fer callin' you a puppy."

Soul snorted, and squeezed her fingers. "No you aren't."

"No, I'm not." She agreed, small smile playing on her face.

"'S fine." He yawned, outside influences finally catching up with him. God he needed some stability, his head had been spinning before he hookah-turned-make out, and he didn't have it in him to keep fighting the darkness of sleep. "I wanna be yer Puppy."

"Shut up, no you don't."

"I always know wha' I want."

"I think you jump in front'a death too much to know what you want."

Soul scoffed this time, and closed his open eye. "Yer jus' scared I might want you."

Her hand clenched his, but he didn't even react, he was so far gone into the lull of sleep, she could've walked away and he wouldn't have noticed. "Shhh, go to sleep, Puppy, you're drunk."

"Would it bother you that much, if I wanted you?"

"You don't know what you're saying, sleep now Puppy." Her voice was soothing, and he finally lost his consciousness, his body going completely slack, and he pulled her a little closer, his lips almost grazing hers.

"Ya'd be a pretty blonde, by th' way."

"Sleep Soul."

"Yes ma'am"

* * *

**Oh my God it's so long. I'm so sorry guys! My bad, I tried to skim some stuff, but nothing wanted to leave. I'm so sorry!**

**Odat: Oh, you and your Wonderland cuddling. I am too good to you ;D Seriously though love, thank you for all the help you've giving me with this, and I'm glad you're still enjoying it!**

**Silly Twin Stars: **

**PATCHY. Yes, I love Patchy, and Soul really really **_**really**_** isn't a fan of Patchy. Awh yes, his wondering arm…apparently when you add alcohol to that, he gets excessively cuddly. Ah yes, Soul and Blair are going to be a huge part of the future. ASS AND TITTIES FOR LIFE!**

**ThatOneChickWhoWritesFanfic:**

**Yes! I'm glad you like Blair! She doesn't seem get much love!**

**Sheepeater(x6):**

**Can I just say thank you for taking your time to review every chapter, I can't even tell you how much you made my day! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I hope you keep enjoying it! thanks for reading!**


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